Nightingale
by SamoaPhoenix9
Summary: An AU retelling of Beauty and the Beast set in Tokugawa Japan. The Beast is a dragon. Belle is a Dutch merchant's daughter, Gaston an arrogant samurai. Enjoy!
1. Opening

**Nightingale**

_A retelling of Disney's Beauty and the Beast_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, plot, etc… of Beauty and the Beast. That all belongs to Disney. Technically this story also belongs to Global eXchange Services, where I interned for the summer, because I had to sign my soul plus all my creative works that I did there to them as part of the hiring process. Maybe they'll let me take some of the credit...  
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_To those who are reading this again because they are curious as to why it's mysteriously updated: I haven't changed all that much. Things have been edited for spelling, and some dialogue in the first few chapters has been changed so that it's not an exact clone of the movie dialogue. But other than that, it's pretty much the same. To any new readers: welcome, and enjoy!_

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Prologue: The Beginning of a Tale

There was a time in the Land of the Sun, which men of the West call Nippon or Japan, when the Daimyos ruled. These powerful warlords answered to the Shogun in his capital at Edo, and only in theory did they owe allegiance to the Emperor, who resided as a virtual prisoner in the ancient capital of Kyoto. It was truly the Shogun, surname Tokugawa, who ruled the land.

During this time no men of the West were permitted to set foot on the soil of Nippon. There were a few colonies on the coast where a tiny handful of Dutch merchants were given land and safe harbor for their trading ships. Rare was the merchant who sought profit in such a dangerous, unwelcoming land, but the possibilities for acquiring wealth were enormous. As the rest of the expanding Western powers fought for control of India, China, Indonesia, and the New World, the rare goods obtained at high cost from isolated Nippon brought great profits to those merchants who dared to make the journey.

Goods and ideas acquired in trade from these brave Westernmen were carefully controlled, and most of them did not move past the Emperor's palace or the Shogun's castle. But the Tokugawa were not fools, and they did see that these glimpses of an alien world were not all harmful to their power. They established a few, hidden schools where carefully chosen youths were trained in select wisdom from the West.

One of these fortunate youths was the Shogun's own son. A handsome lad and much gifted in the warrior arts, this only child was destined to become the leader of all Nippon when his father died. But because of his status he was the target of many assassination attempts, and his father grew fearful for the boy's safety. He built a special _oshiro_ (castle) in the countryside, ordering that all of the finest craftsmen shape it to be both pleasing to the eye and wickedly foiling to any assassin. Thus the _oshiro_ was a maze of corridors that even the hired servants could not navigate with any regularity. It was rumored that several of the sliding paper walls had been secretly given the power to move about on their own by a traveling magician, and that the same magician had made the _oshiro_ impossible to find except by accident. Those specifically looking for it were doomed to wander endlessly in the forest that surrounded it on all sides. The _oshiro_'s crowning glory was no magic, however, but architectural cunning: the nightingale floor leading to the master suite in the western part of the _oshiro_. No matter how light the assassin's foot, the floor would sing out a warning, a high-pitched cry that the designer claimed mimicked a nightingale. No one could pass that floor without the suite's occupants, and more importantly its guards, knowing that an unwanted person approached.

Though safe from his assassins at last, the Shogun's son grew up lonely and isolated with only his servants and guards to keep him occupied. He received fabulous books from the Dutch Studies school and occupied himself with scholarly pursuits, but with the passing years he grew exceedingly spoiled and arrogant.

One bitter winter evening, some of the young man's personal guards nervously crossed the nightingale floor to inform him that an old peasant woman had begged for shelter at the _oshiro_ gates. The Shogun's son ordered them to throw the woman back out into the snow and turned impatiently to his most recent book. He was just tracing the outline of a two-masted schooner with one wistful finger when he heard the light squeak of the nightingale floor again. Sighing with irritation, he slammed the book shut and crossed the room to order the execution of the guards for offending him twice.

When he opened the doors, it was not his guards who greeted him but the twisted face of the old peasant woman they had spoken of. The shogun's son wrinkled his nose at her unwashed, straggled hair and torn cotton kimono. Her skin was red and chapped where the wind and cold had eaten at it, and her nose streamed clear liquid down her chin.

"_Gomen nasai_ (I'm sorry, pardon me), my lord, but would you at least permit this humble one a place in your servants' quarters for the night? I apologize for troubling you, but it is bitterly cold outside," she croaked, her voice raw from the winter wind.

"How dare you disturb a son of the Tokugawa house, you wretched hag? Guards! Imprison this woman at once!" The young man started to turn away, certain his orders would be obeyed.

"Please, my lord. Do not be deceived by appearances. I can pay you for the inconvenience." The Shogun's son turned slightly as he reached to slam his door shut, and caught sight of the rich red flower the woman had pulled from her robe. It was like no flower he had ever seen, though he had come across its image in a book on Western botany: a rose. This rose was even more beautiful than the one in the illustration. If there was one weakness he had, it was his fascination with the Western world and its marvels. The young man started to reach eagerly for it, but remembered his dignity in time and drew his hand back. He smoothed his face once again into cold indifference.

"Go away, old woman. I have no use for you or your pitiful flower." And with that, he slammed the door to his suite and turned back to his precious books.

The door crashed back open. The Shogun's son spun, ready to shout for his guards—and froze.

A tall woman-taller than any he had ever seen-stood in the doorway where the hag had been. Gone were the filthy rags, the tangled hair, and the chapped skin. This woman's skin was as pale as the moon, her layered white kimonos were the finest of embroidered silks, and her long black hair reached to her feet. That is, if she'd had any feet. They were hidden by layers of slowly flickering flame and rising smoke. Like the rose, this sight was one he had read about but never dreamed of seeing: a _yuurei_, a female ghost-devil who had died in dishonor and now committed acts of retribution after death. The young man fell to his knees and bowed his head to the floor in the most humble, terrified position he knew. Sweat poured off his face and dripped to the floor as the _yuurei_ drew closer and the flames at its feet grew hotter.

She chuckled grimly. He could hear the fire in her voice, a striking contrast to her snow-colored skin and robes. "It is far too late for such piety, son of the house of Tokugawa."

"Forgive me, great Lady. I meant no harm," the Shogun's son murmured to the floor.

"No harm?" She laughed again. "What do you think throwing me out into the storms of winter would have done to a poor old lady like myself? For such a coldhearted act as yours, you deserve dire punishment. I have seen this night that there is no Love in your heart at all."

"But, Lady, Love is not important to a mortal man like me," the young man protested, using the words of his tutors. "It is only Honor and Service that matter to a true warrior."

"Honor and Service," the _yuurei_ sneered, mocking. "Has none of the wisdom of your tutors entered your brain? You, as the future ruler of the Land of the Sun, are bound to serve those weaker than you. You are bound to honor women, the elderly, and the poor. You have done none of these in your actions this night. You care for no one but yourself, least of all those closest to you and who depend on you for protection."

"_Gomen nasai,_" he whispered.

"Not enough. For in all your studies, have you not read that the _yuurei_ are vindictive above all? You are fortunate to have caught me in a generous mood. Your punishment shall not be eternal." She gestured, and the young man screamed as he began to change shape. Scales, fire-red and hard as diamonds spread slowly down his arms and across his body. He fell to the floor as his spine stretched and extended, becoming extremely flexible. His arms and legs grew shorter and splayed out to either side, his hands twisting before him to become clawed paws. A brilliant crest extended from his neck, and his jaw, now filled with daggerlike teeth, extended. Last of all he felt a scaly tail grow from his spine. Sprawled on all fours like a lizard, he tilted his head as high as it would go to look into his tormentor's face. He found no pity in her hard, dark eyes.

"A…a dragon? A monster?" he gasped, turning to look at himself. His head snapped back to the _yuurei_. "You cannot mean to leave me like this!"

"And I shall not. Look." She gestured, and the young man's katana sword, which he had named Nightingale, flew into her grasp. In the other hand she held the crimson rose, which now glowed with a life of its own.

"You plan to kill me with my own sword, then. I will not resist you." He rolled his head back on its flexible neck, exposing the tender white underside.

The _yuurei_ sighed impatiently. "Males and their dramatics about loss of honor. You misunderstand me, young Beast." She held out the blade for him to see. The glowing rose vanished in a flash of light, and the blade of Nightingale was abruptly covered with intricately etched designs of curling roses on thorny vines. The dragon counted ten of the flowers in various states of maturity, from a barely open bud near the point to one that was wilting and losing its petals at the haft. "Look well," said the _yuurei_. "Ten flowers, one for each year that you have to undo my curse. They will fade and vanish in turn as the years pass. When the wilted rose is gone from the blade, you will be doomed to remain a Beast for all time."

"How can I undo the curse?" he rasped, his voice no longer smooth and cultured but throaty and cruel.

"You must learn to love a woman and earn her love in return before the final petal of the final rose fades. Not merely desire, but true Love that lasts beyond Time. Through such love you shall find the true meaning of Honor and Service."

"In this shape? No woman will ever love a monster as hideous as me!"

"Nevertheless, those are my terms. I leave the rest to fate." With a wild laugh that seemed to be half-scream, the _yuurei_ dropped Nightingale to the floor and was consumed by the fire at her feet. Just as she vanished, she turned her burning eyes on the dragon and hissed, "Ten years. Do not forget."

The dragon stared his own hideous reflection in the mirrorlike blade of his beloved sword, now the symbol of his imprisonment. The crimson dye that edged the roses on the blade seemed to absorb the brilliant red of the scales covering his face. But soon the reflection was distorted by the steaming tears falling upon it.

_Whew! The first chapter's out of the way, and yokoso (welcome) to all of you! Hopefully you'll like this new twist on Beauty and the Beast. I have always loved Japan, especially the legends about dragons and other fantastic creatures. The history in the opening of this story about Japanese isolation under the Tokugawa shogunate and the tiny Dutch colonies that were permitted are as accurate to Japanese history as I can make them, and I will try to include some Japanese terms in every chapter if I can. Please review and let me know what you think, I'd like some feedback before I write the next chapter. Cheers!_

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	2. New Arrival

**Chapter 1**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast. Disney does._

_Nine years later, in the port village of Nagasaki, Japan_

Belle dropped her pile of bags and bundles to the wooden quay and stared around her, smoothing her blue dress and white apron and brushing her wavy brown hair back from her face as she did so. The sea voyage to faraway Japan from the port in Rotterdam in the Netherlands had been harrowing, but after nearly a year sailing from exotic port to exotic port it was over. And now she and her father, Maurice, had arrived at their new home in the tiny Dutch section of Nagasaki. All she knew about the town from the ship's map she'd glimpsed was that it was somewhere along the southwestern coast of Japan.

_Nippon,_ she reminded herself. She'd promised she'd begin learning the Japanese language on the ship, but she'd only managed to catch a few words and phrases so far. Most of them badly pronounced.

A small man with a broad grin halted his rickshaw in front of Belle and her father and bowed deeply. "_Konnichiwa!_ Medemoseru, Misiyuru," he said respectfully. It took Belle several seconds to translate his accent into her native French and realize he'd said "Mademoiselle" and "Monsieur."

"_Konnichiwa,_" she greeted the man, bending at the waist a little uncertainly. He hesitated, bowed back as if to be certain he'd been respectful enough, and announced "Please, follow me!" At least, that was what Belle had hoped he'd said. She and her father loaded their trunks and other baggage onto the man's cart, which reminded her of a reverse wheelbarrow, and then climbed in themselves. Maurice spoke to the driver, a few traded words in the man's stilted Dutch, and they were off.

Belle surveyed the Dutch quarter with dismay as they passed house after house, built right up against the high containing wall meant to keep foreigners as separated from the natives as possible. And the inside of the compound was so small! Nothing compared to the bustling city of Brussels, where she'd spent her childhood. Her mother had been the last of a noble French family that had fallen into poverty several generations before, and though marriage to a French merchant and inventor living in Dutch Belgium had been far below her station, it was all she could afford. It had been a happy marriage until her death just two years before, when Belle was seventeen. Belle still missed her mother terribly, especially their times together reading great French novels aloud. Though the little family had lived in the Dutch portion of Belgium, Belle had grown up speaking French with her parents and had learned to read and write in that language. She spoke Dutch, of course, as did most people in Brussels, but French was her first language, the language of her heart and home.

And now, because there was no one else to take care of her while he was on the longest, and what promised to be the most profitable voyage of his career, Belle had had no choice but to accompany Maurice and live with him in the alien country of Japan.

"Here we are!" Maurice announced cheerfully. "The perfect place to run a business. I understand the local rulers pay quite highly for European curiosities, which I will be able to make and sell right here!" Belle took in the pleasant house built in traditional Dutch style, tall and narrow, and smiled for the first time in what felt like months. While nothing about this provincial town in the middle of a foreign country felt like home at all, the house itself looked like a comfortable place to spend the next two years. Until it was time to go home to Brussels.

The little man, whose name Belle discovered was Koru, helped them unload their things before taking the little rickshaw around back. "He's the local driver, and the only one licensed to cater to the foreign merchants here," Maurice explained once the man had trundled cheerfully back towards the quay. "So we'll be seeing quite a bit of him if we want to go anywhere outside our own home. Some of my fellow merchants back in Brussels told me it's the only respectable way to travel in this country."

"It seemed almost…slavish to me," Belle answered, wrinkling her nose.

Maurice laughed. "You look just like your mother when you do that. You are truly her daughter."

"_Merci, _Papa."

"Here you say '_arigato'_, remember? And don't worry about the customs here in Nippon. By the time we leave, the customs at home will seem strange and out of place."

"I suppose so. But I am so worried, Papa. What if no one here likes me? What if I don't fit in?"

"You will, _ma petite_." Maurice smiled fondly at his only child. "You are beautiful and clever and graceful all at once, just as your mother was. And many merchants bring their wives and daughters along while they do business here. You will charm them all, and perhaps not be too lonely until it is time to go home."

"I hope so, Papa. Only please don't call me _ma petite_. It reminds me of…" She fought to keep her voice from wobbling.

"_Chèrie,_ it's been two years, and still you cry for her?" Maurice put up a pudgy finger to wipe away his daughter's tears.

"I can't help it. I miss her. And I miss Brussels, a bit. Everything here in Japan—Nippon--is so strange. But at least I've still got you."

Maurice embraced her gently. "No matter what. Now, let's see about getting this house in order. Perhaps by then a few of our neighbors will have come out to welcome us."

_Author's note: I did some research, and discovered that long before Nagasaki became infamous after being hit with the second atomic bomb, it was the only place where the Dutch were permitted to live on the Japanese islands during the Tokugawa reign. As many of you probably know, konnichiwa means 'good afternoon', and arigato means 'thank you'. Sorry this chapter is so short, but I thought it was important to establish who Belle was and how she ended up in Japan before the 'movie' scenes begin. The next one will be longer, I promise! Special thanks go to TrudiRose for her prompt review of the previous chapter._

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	3. Little Town

**Chapter 2**

_Disclaimer: Disney owns Beauty and the Beast. Not me. I wish. (lol)_

_One month later_

Belle sighed as she collected her most recent loan from the bookseller and prepared to quietly slip out of the house. She wanted to see what the Dutch quarter looked like _empty._ Normally it was bustling with the everyday activities of any small town, full of the shouts of merchants and other businessmen hawking their wares to passersby, punctuated with knots of men and women trading the latest gossip. But this morning, slipping out unusually early, Belle hoped to get a good look at the town itself before its human population appeared for ordinary business.

After only a month in Nagasaki, she was already chafing at the lack of things to occupy her time. In Brussels there had always been something interesting to see or do at whatever hour she left the house. But here, with so few people and all of them forced to live in such close quarters, every day was virtually the same as the one before.

It didn't help that most of the townspeople found her very odd. They had admired her looks from afar, true, but most of them did not exert themselves to interact with her. They were all pure Dutch, and many had known one other back in the Netherlands. The girls Belle's age were either blond and simpering or hired Japanese servants with whom no one was permitted to interact. The one thing that brought the young people of the town together was Getsuru's demonstrations of his samurai skills, which generally happened whenever he could slip into the Dutch quarter's tavern. For some reason, the majority of the town found the arrogant young Nipponese amazing. It had taken Belle about 30 seconds after meeting him to decide that the best place to observe him was from as far away as possible. She disliked his cocky posturing and his clear belief that every female should swoon at the sight of him. He spoke Dutch well, testimony to the amount of time he'd spent illegally in the Dutch quarter, which was all the good Belle could say about him honestly. She had to admit that he was handsome, too, in a too-smooth-and-chiseled sort of way, and he _was_ very quick with his sword. And for some reason, since she'd arrived he'd taken a liking to her and made a point to seek her out every time he was in town. Which was often. She only tolerated his poorly concealed advances because it broke the monotony of the days in town, and it gave her practice in deciphering the Nipponese accent.

Accidentally bumping into the Dutch quarter's sole bookseller on her second venture into town with Koru had been a blessing in disguise. Few in the town had the time or inclination for so profitless a pursuit as reading, so the bookseller himself was often lonely. He and Belle had become fast friends, and he was happy to loan her whatever books she desired despite the fact that she never bought one. True, the books were all in Dutch, which Belle read less well than French, but she managed. Her most recent book had been a treasure, a thrilling tale about a beanstalk and an ogre. _But,_ she reflected, _the reading is just one more thing that sets me apart. No other girls in the quarter spend half their time with their noses in a book; many of them can't read anyway. And yet I can't stop. If I didn't read I'd have gone stark raving mad already._

Empty of its human inhabitants, the Dutch quarter was glaringly tiny, just a few crisscrossings of European-style streets halting at the wall that separated the Dutch merchants from their Nipponese neighbors. Neighbors they might move within feet of and never see.

That, Belle decided as she surveyed the main street where all the shops were located, was what chafed her the most. When she had agreed to accompany her father to Japan, she had dreamed of excitement and adventure in an exotic land, seeing strange new people such as she'd read about in her books. But here they were, virtual prisoners in a miniature Europe, not even allowed to see the land in which they resided. She was startled out of her silent contemplation of the town streets by a cheerful call.

"Goede ochtend!"

Belle smiled and returned the Dutch greeting with a friendly "Bonjour!", but then she blushed, having forgotten that few here in this all-Dutch village spoke French. So unlike Brussels, where most people knew at least a few phrases. The baker's wife smiled kindly and said in Dutch, "It's all right, dearie. And where are we going today?" She handed Belle a steaming roll.

"The bookshop, as usual," Belle replied, grateful for the woman's generosity. Eager for conversation, she added, "I just finished the most wonderful story, about—"

"That's nice," the woman said. She might have said more, but her husband called from inside, "First orders coming in. Hurry up!" Nodding cheerfully to Belle, the baker's wife vanished back inside their shop.

Belle shrugged and hurried on as the town began to come alive. Expertly weaving her way through the knots of people streaming into the streets, she noted Getsuru was already present in the company of his close Dutch friend, a small man named Bram. She saw the two of them following her with their eyes and chose to ignore it, focusing on her destination.

"Ah, Bella! Goede ochtend!" The bookseller was just opening his doors when she arrived.

Belle smiled. No matter what she did, she could not get him to pronounce her name correctly. "Good morning," she returned in Dutch. "Here's the book I borrowed."

"What's this? You've finished it already? You are quite a reader, Mistress Bella." He took the book from her and replaced it on a narrow shelf.

"This story was so good, I simply couldn't put it down until it was finished," she assured him, her eyes already scanning the shelves. "Have you got anything new?"

"When the shipments come in maybe twice a year? Certainly not since yesterday," he teased.

"That's all right," Belle said, slightly annoyed with herself for forgetting once again she was not in Brussels, where the booksellers often had new books every week in a myriad of languages including Dutch, French, Flemish, German, and sometimes Danish or even English. Belle could only read French and Dutch, but she'd loved the look of the words on a page. Pulling her mind out of the past, her eyes fell on a book covered in a rich dark blue. "This is the one I want."

"That one, again? Child, you've been here a month and you've already read it at least three times!" Nevertheless, the elderly bookseller gallantly took the book from the shelf for her and brushed off some imaginary dust.

"It's my favorite," Belle admitted, running her fingers along the smooth binding. "Myth, legend, epic battles for glory and honor and all that. And it's set in the Nippon we can't visit, which makes it even better. That way, when I go home without seeing anything of this country I can still imagine I was able to visit it."

The bookseller eyed her shrewdly. "So you're another one who'd like to see life outside the walls. Let me assure you, my dear, it would be far too dangerous for a pretty thing like you to go outside the Dutch quarter. But would you like me to tell you a little story one of the Emporer's courtiers told me when I last traveled to Kyoto to sell more books to his Imperial Majesty?"

"I didn't know you'd been outside the quarter. I thought it was forbidden," Belle said, surprised.

"It is, unless by special invitation from the Shogun or, occasionally, the Emperor. Our Western books are much in demand by certain circles of Nipponese scholars, so I believe of all the merchants here I have been invited to court most often," the bookseller confided. "Now, would you like me to tell you the tale or not?"

"Absolutely," said Belle eagerly, settling herself against one of the high bookshelves.

"Well, they say there was once a magnificent castle, what they call an _oshiro_, in the deep forest not far from Nagasaki. No one is sure why the shogun had it built, or even whether he intended for anyone to live there. But supposedly it's nearly impossible to find. And the rumor is that a terrible monster resides there, ready to devour any travelers unlucky enough to stumble upon it."

"What sort of monster?" Belle asked.

"No one has seen it and lived to tell the tale," the bookseller said, in a dark and mysterious whisper. "They say it is served by a host of demons the Nipponese call _onii, _and it lives in as great a splendor as the Shogun himself. They also say that the Shogun's own son was devoured by the monster, nearly ten years ago."

Belle laughed. "How do they know all this if no one has ever seen the creature and lived? I've read of such things." She tapped the book she held in her arms. "They're nice to dream about, but stories like that rarely turn out to be anything but vivid imagination."

"Rarely? Have you ever come across one that _was_ true, Miss Bella?" the bookseller asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Well, no," Belle admitted, "But I do like to think that buried somewhere in all the stacks of tales is one that might actually be true. That's why I like to read about them so much. Maybe someday I'll read one that truly happened and never know it."

The bookseller considered her carefully. "If you like it all that much, then keep it." He gestured at the book.

Belle was startled. "But, surely, sir…you can't just--."

"I mean it, child. It's nice to meet a fellow dreamer once in awhile."

"Well, _merci beaucoup_! Thank you very much!" Belle could hardly believe her good fortune. Her favorite book, all to herself! She'd had to sell all of her books in Brussels because of the cost of passage to Nippon. "_Domo arigato,_" she added in Nipponese, making the bookseller smile.

"_Do' itashimashite,_" he replied, giving the polite response for 'you're welcome.' He bowed her from the shop.

Belle was in such a daze of happiness that she barely remembered that she had to be heading home to help her father in his workshop. Here and there she wandered, buried in the glossy pages, hardly noticing the odd looks the rest of the townspeople were giving her.

Suddenly, the book was snatched rudely from her hands.

"Goede ochtend, Beru-san." It was Getsuru, leering at her. Bram stood silently beside him, running a hand nervously through his white-blond hair. Belle had gotten used to Getsuru's odd way of pronouncing her name by now. His Nipponese tongue simply could not wrap around the letter _L_. The few other Nipponese she'd met in her time in the Dutch quarter had been the same. The 'san' was their title for 'miss', 'mistress', or 'sir', depending upon whom they addressed.

"Bonjour, Getsuru. Bonjour, Bram." This time, she spoke French on purpose, hoping that it would hint to the two men that she did not want to talk. "May I have my book, please?" she added in Dutch.

Instead of handing it to her, Getsuru leafed casually through it. "How can you read this? It's backwards," he complained after a moment.

"Not to me," Belle returned, wondering what kind of books the Nipponese outside the Dutch quarter read. She would have loved to find out, but not from Getsuru.

"Beru-san, you really should pay more attention to things more worthy of your time." He casually tossed her new book behind him, right into a mud puddle. "Like me," he added when Belle glared at him. She dodged around Getsuru and Bram to fetch her book. She was careful not to look at them, but when Getsuru next spoke he was directly behind her. "I hear things in the tavern. They're all talking about you. And I agree with them: it's not natural for a woman to spend so much time buried away in dusty tomes. In Nippon, no woman outside the Imperial palace learns to read.

"How awful!" Belle exclaimed without thinking. "That's completely barbaric!

"You'll soon grow used to our ways. Then you won't long for Europe so much." Getsuru put a casual arm around her, and Belle stiffened. She knew a little of Nipponese customs: no man would dare such familiarity without the explicit consent of the girl he was courting. Clearly Getsuru was so confident in her adoration that he did not care if he offended her. She tried to wriggle free, but his grip was immovable. "I have an idea," he continued conspiratorially. "Why don't you and me take a casual walk—outside the Dutch quarter. I could show you around the _real_ Nagasaki. A pretty thing like you shouldn't be confined to this little sink-hole."

There was nothing Belle would like more than to go outside the walls, but not in Getsuru's company. She had a fairly good idea where he'd take her. So she carefully extricated herself, inventing quickly, "I can't, Gesturu. I…I promised I'd help my father in his shop today. He's been very busy lately." In truth, Maurice had had very few things to work on in the past weeks, but Belle hoped that the white lie would aid her in escaping Getsuru.

Bram spoke for the first time. "That's not true. I heard him tell my father in church that with so many merchants in town it was going to take some time before he could sell anything."

Belle went rigid, trying not to blush at being caught in her fib. Her face burning slightly, she snapped, "How would you know if he received an order for one of his inventions since then?"

Getsuru had looked gratefully at his companion when the blond man made his comment, but quickly changed his tune at Belle's temperamental reply. "Yes, how would you know that?" he repeated, cuffing Bram sharply across the back of the head.

This abrupt about-face only served to fuel Belle's temper. She controlled it, barely. "I have to be going. Goodbye!"

At that moment, a small explosion rocked the street. Belle whirled around as dogs barked in alarm, cats meowed, and people cried out. Realizing the rising steam was coming from the roof of her own home, she paused for one final, significant glare before tearing up the street as fast as her legs could carry her. Then she promptly forgot all about the encounter as worries for her father's safety quickly replaced all other thoughts in her head.

_Author's note: A quick word about Japanese pronunciation, since I have the feeling we're going to run into this several more times. As Belle has noticed, the Japanese language does not differentiate between the English "L" and the "R" sounds. In fact, the letter "L" does not exist in their alphabet when it is translated to Western letters. To get an idea of what this sounds like, practice slurring the two sounds together a few times until it comes out sounding almost as if you were going to say a word that begins with the letter "D". Hence, Belle's name would sound like Beh-du but be spelled Beru. Hopefully I haven't confused you too badly! If you're still confused, listen to someone whose first language is Japanese--speaking English. Listen for words that should contain an "L" sound. You'll get the idea pretty quickly. Other points of Japanese pronunciation I will attempt to explain on an as-needed basis, but this is one of the hardest concepts for Westerners to grasp when trying to learn to pronounce Japanese correctly without hearing it._

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	4. A Father and A Daughter

**Chapter 3**

_Disclaimer: Beauty and the Beast belongs to the Disney corporation. I am just borrowing from their marvelous inspiration._

"Papa!" Belle called, sprinting up to the door of their house. Smoke was still drifting out of the top windows, but other than that whatever had caused the explosion seemed to be over with. Belle charged up three flights of stairs, feet hardly touching the steps in her anxiety.

Throwing open the door to the attic, where Maurice had set up his small laboratory, Belle paused. The smoke was still so thick she could see nothing. Not wanting to risk bumping anything important or worse yet, sharp, Belle waited for the smoke to clear. A particularly thick cloud blowing out the door and down the stairs made her gag and cough helplessly for several seconds. When she had her breath back, she timidly ventured "Papa? _Comment ça va?_ Are you all right?"

A round of vehement cursing was her only reply. Still, Belle sighed with relief to find her father still alive and kicking. In fact, as the smoke finally parted the first thing she saw was him giving his latest contraption a good kick. "Why does nothing I create _ever _work?" he sputtered, hopping up and down and clutching his foot in pain.

Belle laughed as the last traces of her anxiety were replaced with amusement. "But so many of your inventions _have_ worked! Remember the little dancing ballerina you made me when I was ten?" she reminded him.

"Ahhh, yes." For a moment, Maurice's face softened. Then he glanced back at his latest creation and his frown returned. "But this time, I'm really in trouble! I'll _never_ get this thing to work by tonight!" he snarled. Belle could tell that only the memory of the pain of his last blow at the hulking machine was preventing him from kicking it again in his frustration.

"Tonight? Why tonight?"

"I've been invited to give a demonstration at the castle of the Shogun and I have to leave by dusk to get there in time, that's why! And I was so hoping to have it complete by then!" Maurice sighed, patting its dented metal side despite his recent assault on it.

"You will. And the Shogun and his court will be completely charmed by…" she stumbled, "by whatever it does."

Maurice eyed his daughter, but Belle could see that he was rapidly cooling off. "You really believe I can do it?"

"Why else would I be here, but to cheer you on as you become rich and famous with your inventions?"

"Oh, _ma chèrie_, you are so like your mother. Always bringing out the best in me. Now, hand me that double-headed clincher, over there. No, not that, girl, the one next to it! That's perfect. Thank you. We'll have this thing ready for the Shogun in a flash!" Suddenly filled with enthusiasm, Maurice took the tool from her, pulled on his work goggles, and rolled under the hulking machine to begin adjusting some valves. "Did you have a good time in town today?" His voice echoed hollowly from beneath his invention.

"I got a new book. And the bookseller told me a wonderful tale from outside the quarter. Papa…" she trailed off, not sure how to voice the uncertainties that had been surfacing over the past month, culminating in her most recent encounter with Getsuru and Bram. "Do you think I'm…odd?"

"A daughter raised by your mother, odd?" Maurice rolled back out from under his invention to peer at her. "What_ever_ would give you such a ridiculous idea?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's just that there's no one I can talk in the whole Quarter to except the bookseller. And he's often busy. As for the rest, well…they're the ones that do the talking. About me."

"I see. But let me assure you of something, _ma petite. _ Every day you grow more like your mother. You are truly her daughter in every way. And that means that you are of noble birth, a woman of class who can easily outshine any of these merchant girls. The _crème de la crème_, if you will. And even if you weren't, I would still be by your side, proud of you for who you are."

Belle smiled at him through her tears. "Truly?"

"Truly. Your dear mother would have said the same, were she here today. Now, no more of those tears. We have to get this thing ready for the demonstration tomorrow!"

Suddenly her fears seemed far behind her. What had she to worry about when she had her father's love, and the memory of her mother? Determinedly, Belle picked up a wrench and went to help her father.

Hours later, Belle and her father were still working by the time Koru arrived to transport both Maurice and his invention through Nagasaki. Another hired man was to meet them at the edge of town with a different conveyance for the journey to the Shogun's capital at Edo.

Timidly, the small Nipponese man bowed at the open door to the attic. "Mishiyuru, you ready go?" he asked, looking in astonishment at the room's chaos.

"Oh, drat," Maurice grumbled, emerging from under his invention to peer at Koru through his goggles. "I shall be ready in a moment or two, Master Koru. Belle, come stand over here, _chèrie_. We must give this thing one last try."

Belle came to stand next to her father, wiping ineffectually at a dark smudge of grease on her chin. They had tried off and on through the day to get Maurice's invention, an automated wood-chopper, to work properly. Though all tests so far had failed, at least there had been no more explosions as dramatic as the one that morning.

After making sure that Belle and Koru were both well away from the machine, Maurice nervously flipped the switch to turn it on and backed away. The chopper rattled, rumbled, and wheezed a few times, causing Koru to wince at each new noise. The handle of the axe attached to the main body of the machine quivered, and then abruptly swung downward in an unmistakable chop. Back up it went, and down again. The dull silver blade was biting deep into the block of wood placed there for the purposes of testing. The machine ran out of power when the block was nearly severed, but the slice was much neater than if it had been cut by human hands.

Maurice shouted with joy, fairly bouncing around the room in his excitement. "It works! It works!" Belle joined in his improvised dance, and the two of them skipped about the room until guiltily remembering Koru's presence. But the little man did not seem astonished, either at the machine or their outburst. Indeed, he was laughing so hard tears were running down his cheeks, and muttering to himself in rapid Nipponese. At last, he contained himself enough to speak in his stilted Dutch, "Miracle! Miracle! Lord Shogun will be most pleased. But come! Mishiyuru late already!"

With Koru's diligent help, Maurice and Belle bundled up the invention and settled it in Koru's cart. Maurice offered to walk along behind and push, fearing the load would be too much for the tiny man, but Koru cheerfully declined. Then he insisted that Maurice ride in the rickshaw as well. Both Belle and her father protested vehemently, but finally realizing they were wasting more time Maurice relented. Belle watched in astonishment as Koru simply picked up the two poles in front of the cart and began to walk. The cart rolled easily forward with only a moment or two of strain. After making certain that Koru was truly not exerting himself too badly, Maurice turned back to wave to his daughter. "Goodbye, Belle! I shall return triumphant in a week or two! Take care of yourself while I'm gone!"

"_Bonne chance_! Good luck!" Belle called after him. She waved until the rickshaw was out of sight, wishing she knew the Nipponese term for good luck as well.

Maurice was well-pleased as the rickshaw rumbled quietly through the streets of the Dutch quarter. His greatest invention, working at last! He could not help feeling a bit worried about Belle, alone in the empty house for so long, but he knew she could take care of herself. After all, she had managed the entire household after her mother died so unexpectedly in Brussels two years before. Maurice had been on a trading expedition in the south of France when it happened, and had rushed home as soon as possible to find everything running smoothly and waiting for his return in spite of the gaping absence of the house's mistress. That, the servants had told him, had been Belle's doing. Though inwardly devastated at losing the person she was closest to in the world, Belle had shown her deep grief only in private. The rest of the time, she had determinedly stepped into her mother's shoes and seen to everything until her father arrived at home three weeks later. Maurice would have left her in Brussels when the offer came to travel to Japan and sell his unusual wares there, but he would have been gone over four years all told. That was much too long for any young woman to be alone in a city like Brussels. And what if she had fallen in love and wanted to marry? Maurice would have been far away and unable to look after her or give his permission to the match. So the decision had been made for Belle to accompany him. She had understood well what she was giving up, but it had ultimately been her choice. Maurice was proud of her for that. He had not been a young man when he married her mother, and now he was older still. It was good to know that Belle could make her own decisions should anything happen to him.

The rickshaw rumbled to a halt at the guard-gate that was the only legal entrance from the Dutch quarter into the main streets of Nagasaki. Of course, everyone knew that there were other, hidden, entrances, but anyone on honest business had to pass through this small wooden gate. By this time it was fully dark, a consequence of having started out much later than planned, but the gate was always kept lit through the night with two burning torches.

Maurice heard Koru joking in Nipponese with the guard who came out to inspect the cart. The man came up to Maurice and held out his hand. After a moment's confusion the old man handed the guard the summons he'd received from the Shogun, written twice: once in Nipponese and once in badly-spelled Dutch. It seemed to be enough for the guard, who read it, handed it back, and then conducted a thorough investigation of the rickshaw's contents. He whistled in astonishment at Maurice's invention, knocked on it several times with his knuckles, and poked his wicked-looking curved spear into the gaps between the chopper and the rickshaw's edges. At last, he seemed satisfied and waved them on into the city. Maurice let out his breath, astonished to discover that he'd been holding it. The guard's suspicious investigation for stowaways in the cart had put him more on edge than he cared to admit.

At any other time, being outside the Dutch quarter for the first time would have made Maurice unbearably excited. But it was dark, and there was not really much to see. He promised himself he'd memorize everything on the return journey so that he could describe the town to Belle, and then promptly settled back to sleep. Just before his eyes closed, he had the strange sensation of watching eyes. But before his exhausted brain could fully process the warning, he was fast asleep.

He was awakened by a jolt as the cart halted. Maurice sat straight up, jarred out of a dream about a warm bed back home in Brussels. Then he heard angry voices and shrank down against the metal bulk of his invention.

Koru was in the midst of a heated argument with a group of ten men, all taller than he. They were on the outskirts of Nagasaki, Maurice saw by glancing around, and it was several hours before dawn. Three of the men carried torches, and the light glittering on their angry faces made them look cruel, wolflike. They kept glancing hungrily at Maurice, as if assessing how easily they could overpower him. Maurice felt a prickle of terror at the undisguised hatred in those glances.

Koru made a furious gesture at the biggest of the men, clearly the leader. With a casual backhand blow, the leader sent the tiny porter sprawling. While Koru knelt in the dirt road, gasping and trying to regain control of himself, the rest of the men surrounded Maurice.

"_Gaijin ga nai!_" the leader snarled furiously. Maurice paled as he recognized the Nipponese term: No Foreigners. Before he could react, he was seized by several pairs of hands and hauled away from the cart, shrieking with terror, towards the dark forest that rose like a wall near the edge of Nagasaki.

_Author's note: What will happen to Maurice? Only time will tell. I thought I'd take this opportunity to explain another nuance of Japanese pronunciation. As Koru demonstrates in his speaking of the French word Mon**si**eur, the Japanese language does not contain the sound "see" (also sometimes spelled ci or si in English). When pronouncing foreign words, the Japanese substitute the syllable "shi" for all of these spellings._

_Cheers until next time,_

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	5. A Surprise

**Chapter 4**

_Disclaimer: Disney owns Beauty and the Beast. And the part of my heart that doesn't belong to my family. (Sounding a bit Oscar-ish, aren't I?)_

_The Next Morning_

Belle did her best to go through her usual routine, ignoring the niggling sensation that something was wrong. _That's just because you are missing Papa,_ she told herself whenever she began to grow nervous. It didn't help that she had to come in from purchasing the day's food to an empty house, something she had never done before in her life. In Brussels they had always had two maids and a cook, in addition to Belle and her mother, to carry out the household tasks. But the cost of traveling to Japan had been so much that until Maurice began selling some of his wares they could not afford to hire any servants.

Belle did not like the silence that hovered over the house like a dark cloud. She found herself jumping at strange noises, and felt restless but didn't want to go out. _There's nowhere to go, anyhow_. The thought set her even more on edge. She tried to settle back and read her new book, but she could not find a comfortable spot with enough light. At last, she determined to go sit on the front steps. But there it was too noisy; she couldn't concentrate. Just as she had resigned herself to going back inside, a dark shadow fell across her open page.

"Oh, good afternoon, Getsuru," she said in Dutch, glad enough for any distraction from her present mood.

"_Konnichiwa_, Beru-san. It is marvelous weather we are having, no?" Getsuru said, bowing deeply.

A small alarm bell went off inside Belle's head. Contrasting this overly polite behavior to the Nipponese man's outright rudeness the morning before, she could sense that something was afoot. However, there was no harm in continuing to be friendly. "The sun is quite strong today," she agreed. "It is such a lovely day to be outside!"

"My thoughts exactly!" Getsuru said jovially. "Perhaps you and I could take a short walk together. It might take your mind from your father's…prolonged…absence."

Belle studied Getsuru carefully, searching him for any ill intentions. This was the first time she had really taken any time to survey the man at close range. Though tall for a Nipponese, he was only an inch or so taller than Belle. His straight black hair was always pulled smoothly back into a horsetail, the hair itself longer than Belle's own wavy brown hair that brushed the base of her shoulderblades when it was wet. His face was smooth, with angular lines and the narrow eyes of a full-blood Nipponese. There seemed to be perpetual calculation in their deep brown depths, even when he was at his most charming. Under the traditional dark blue cotton costume that was required of all samurai, she could see a barely concealed hint of trained muscle and lightning-fast reflexes. He always wore his _katana_, the curved longsword of the samurai, tied to his belt along with a shorter dagger, what he called a _daito_, thrust into his sash. He usually carried a bow as well, one that was taller than he, and a quiver filled with razor-sharp arrows. However, on this particular day he had left them behind.

Belle chose to take this gesture as a peace offering. "Very well. I accept your kind invitation."

With a low, European-style bow that made Belle wonder exactly how much time he had spent practicing, Getsuru offered his arm. Tucking her book in a convenient niche under the front step, Belle took it and they started off down the street.

Belle soon realized that Getsuru had a specific destination in mind: the house of his Dutch friend Bram.

"Where on earth are we going?" she asked, completely at sea when Getsuru casually opened the front door without knocking and walked her inside.

"You will see." He led her up the stairs and into a spare, empty, bedroom. When he closed the door behind them, Belle's nerves began to falter and fray.

"What's going on?" she asked, struggling to keep the panic from her voice.

"Just a moment, Beru-san. Here, put this on, quickly." He tossed her a large roll of dark blue cloth. When unwrapped, Belle could see that it was a full-length cloak with a generous hood, wide enough to conceal nearly everything about her.

Belle began to see where this was going. "Wait a minute. This is very, very, illegal. If we were caught—"

Getsuru held up his hand. "Do not trouble yourself. I am well-connected in this town. You will not be harmed--as long as you are with me. Now, watch what a true man can accomplish." With that, he seized the frame of the low bed in one hand and heaved. The bed groaned and came away from the wall, revealing a dark opening that seemed to lead into the next house. On the other side of the Dutch quarter wall.

"Wait. Please." Belle begged, trying to slide her hand casually onto the handle of the door to the rest of the house. "We barely know each other. Why take such terrible risks for me?"

Getsuru took her hand, pulling her irresistibly towards the tunnel. "Surely you see we are meant for one another, you and me. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, far surpassing any of the other bland creatures who call themselves women these days. I am the most handsome man in town, and the most skilled at the warrior arts. Come. I will show you around your new home." He gave a harder tug, wrenching her arm. Belle dug in her heals, straining to break free, but she slid helplessly across the polished floor. Her plain working shoes could find no purchase to hold her back.

"Are you out of your_ mind_?" she half-whispered, half-screamed, hoping no one else would hear. Her thoughts struggled to grasp the full implications of what Getsuru was not-so-subtly hinting at, even as her feet struggled fruitlessly to grasp the floor. "You actually think--" The words caught in her throat. "You want me to—" Again, the words would not come, in any language. Belle was so choked with the feelings boiling inside her that she could hardly breathe. In a burst of strength she yanked away from Getsuru and darted to the door. He caught her just as she reached for the handle, and pinned her against it with her back crushed against its smooth wood. She could see his face coming towards her, and she did the only thing she could think of. She slapped him with all her strength, then pulled at the door handle and darted out. She heard a crash from behind her as Getsuru came hurling out of the spare bedroom to hit the wall and reel dazedly to the floor.

Belle ran. Past Bram's puzzled face, down the stairs, out the front door. Past the staring Dutch quarter residents and their boring lives. She did not stop, nor did she take her hands from her mouth to release her strangled yell of shock, fury, misery, disappointment, loneliness, and a thousand other emotions until she was safely locked in her own room and had a pillow stuffed into her face to muffle the noise. Even so, she was certain it still carried from one end of the Dutch compound to the other.

A few streets over, Bram was helping Getsuru climb to his feet. "So," he asked cheerfully when his Nipponese friend finally focused on his face. "How'd it go?"

He ducked the answer with a barely disguised chuckle.

_Author's note: Sorry, guys, another short one. Hopefully this chapter will keep the originality folks happy while still staying sort of with the Disney plot. And no, we don't get to hear about Maurice until a future chapter. Gomen nasai! _

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	6. Search

**Chapter 5**

_Disclaimer: Disney owns its version of Beauty and the Beast, not me. If I did, you'd be reading this in a nice bound book with illustrations that show exactly what I'm seeing in my mind as I write this. Or something like that._

_That evening, at dusk_

Belle sat up in the last dying rays of the sun, realizing dazedly that she had cried herself to sleep curled up in a tiny, miserable ball. Her teeth clenched as she remembered why. So Getsuru thought he could steal her away and marry her just like that, without any respect to the law, or her wishes, or any other such small inconveniences. Well. If he continued to pursue her, she would be ready for him. Growing up next door to four rambunctious boys before their family had moved to Amsterdam had given her a great deal of experience in punishing tormentors who thought a lone girl was easy prey. Still, Getsuru was extremely resourceful; she knew that without a doubt now that she'd seen what levels he was capable of stooping to. Belle was unsure if any of her usual tricks would discourage him for long. She'd caught him off guard so far with her outright refusals, but he would be much better prepared the next time. How long could she hold him off? Likely not until her father got home in two weeks or so. And as long as she was alone, she was vulnerable. If Getsuru caught her by surprise even once, it would be all over for her.

Belle smiled to herself. Her mother had often teased her of thinking like a general in her occasional miniature wars-of-retaliation against the boys next door. And here she was, so far away from home, doing so again. Belle had never been one to sit back and accept her fate tamely.

She stood stiffly, wandering upstairs to her father's workshop to see if he had left anything that might be useful inside. She stopped stock-still at the door. The room felt silent and unused after the frenzied activity of the day before, a feeling that was almost ominous in the gathering dark. The unease at being alone that had plagued her all morning came back and hit her full-force. Belle sat down on the top step of the attic to collect her thoughts and compose herself.

_Oh, Papa, I miss you so! Hurry back!_ she thought prayerfully, wiping at the tears that leaked unbidden from her eyes. _And it's not only missing Papa,_ she realized, her head still in her hands, _And not only these sudden…problems…with Getsuru. It's that everything here is still so different, and so strange. I'm not entirely sure of all the rules that everyone else here seems to already know. But I have to start learning sometime, I suppose._ Though she wanted to remain on that step thinking her own lonely thoughts forever, Belle forced herself to stand and turn to that achingly empty room again. In one corner she spied a rusty metal bucket that might serve her purposes very well. Belle took a breath, stepped into the room, and began the hunt for some sturdy rope.

Much later, closer to midnight, Belle awoke in bed feeling as though she were going to suffocate. Though the night was still warm, as befitted early fall, she had closed and bolted all the house's shutters against surprise entry. The heat of the unmoving air in her bedroom was almost unbearable. Dashing the sweat from her forehead, Belle took her thickest blanket and dragged it downstairs to the main room. It was marginally cooler there, to her intense relief. Lying down on her blanket, she sighed and closed her eyes.

Immediately they shot open again as a great clatter came from outside. Someone had discovered the trap she had set at the front door. Belle thought she heard the person, whoever it was, swearing in Nipponese.

Grimly she lit a candle stub, threw the blanket over her shoulders, and made her way to the front door. She couldn't resist witnessing Getsuru's humiliation as he staggered away from her first surprise for him. Belle had filled the old bucket with smelly water from near the quay and carefully positioned it above the door. Anyone who tried to enter the house would be doused in sea-slime thanks to the rope she had wound around the door handle and the bucket.

To her shock, it wasn't Getsuru who was backing away from the door. It was a much smaller figure that Belle recognized instantly despite his oddly hunched stance.

"Koru!" she cried, flinging open the door and dodging the remaining water spilling from the bucket. The tiny man flinched back as if he expected more water to be thrown at him, or perhaps a blow.

Puzzled at such behavior, Belle made her way towards him more slowly. "Koru, it's me, Belle," she said slowly in Dutch. The tiny porter glanced up at her face and away. That one glimpse in the light of her weak candle was enough. "_Mon Dieu_…" Belle gasped, horrified at the sight before her. Koru had been beaten nearly beyond recognition. His eyes were swollen and black, his small nose had clearly been broken twice, and his lip was puffy. One tooth hung crookedly from its blood-soaked gum, and numerous other bruises peppered the rest of his face. _If the rest of him mirrors his face,_ Belle thought in horror, _it's a wonder he's still alive._

"Medemoseru," he gasped, his voice hoarse from screams, "Your _o'to-san_…your father…"

Belle's insides went cold. If Koru was here alone in such shape, what did that mean for her dear Papa? Hurrying forward, she took the small Nipponese man by the arm and gently led him into the house. "Come. I will find something in the kitchen to make you feel better," she coaxed when he hesitated. Whether he agreed, or he was simply too exhausted to resist, he allowed her to lead him into the house and seat him at the table while she lit more candles.

In the greater light, the damage was worse than she had imagined, though miraculously no bones other than his nose were broken. Swiftly Belle found him a damp handkerchief to blot the dried blood from his nose and set about stoking up the fire to boil choice herbs in water. She was grateful to her mother for teaching her a few things about plants with healing properties, and for drumming it into her to always have them on hand no matter how low money might be. There was no raw meat or ice in the house to put on Koru's swollen eyes, however, for which she was quite sorry.

Once she had put a pot filled with water and the herbs over the fire, she took the chair next to him. "Koru, the herbs will be ready in a few minutes, and they will help with your pain. But they'll take a few minutes to boil. Please, tell me. What happened?"

The little man raised his head, and dropped it again, as if he were too ashamed to look her in the face. "Oh, Medemoseru, you are too generous. Too gracious. If you knew…" he trailed away.

Belle took his shoulders and made him look at her. "What happened?"she asked softly, barely above a whisper.

"You charged me with protecting him. And now…"

"_What happened?_" Still Belle did not raise her voice, but the intensity of her tone convinced him.

"On outskirts of town, near where we meet man to take Mishiyuru to Lord Shogun. They surround us in dark. I could not stop them."

"Who? Who did this? And where is my…" Belle barely managed to gasp out the word "…father?"

"Ten men. Bullies. They do not like _gaijin_, foreigners, in Nagasaki. Most put up with because Lord Shogun and Emperor say, but some want all pale-skins gone. They took _o'to-san_, your father."

"Was it them who hurt you?" Belle asked. She now felt numb to her very core despite the heat of the fire.

"Most took Mishiyuru into forest near Nagasaki. Others stay behind, do beatings. When friends return, they are all frightened. Run away. Leave me alive. I come here, to, to, tell Medemoseru. Took all day." Koru closed his eyes tight.

"Thank you. Did you see what happened to my father? Did the men have him with them when they came out of the forest?" Belle's hands tightened on Koru's shoulders, making him wince. Guiltily, she withdrew them and clenched them into fists on her lap instead.

"Mishiyuru did not come out. I watch." A tear leaked from Koru's eyes, and he brushed it away angrily.

Belle clenched her hands tighter. "But you said the men were frightened when they came out. Is there a chance my father could still be alive?"

Koru considered. While he did, Belle brought her herb-water to him and began to swab at his bruises with the bloodied handkerchief. At length, wincing from her touch despite her efforts to be gentle, he said, "Small chance. Very small. But chance. When Medemoseru is completed, I will search."

"I'll come with you,' Belle said determinedly.

"No!" snapped Koru with surprising strength. "Far too dangerous for girl pretty as you. No. I will go alone. I will find him."

"You can barely stand," Belle argued, "What if something happens to you? Then I will be worried for two people instead of one."

"Medemoseru is too kind," Koru said with effort, "But what Medemoseru wishes is against Lord Shogun's wishes. His law. Safer stay here."

"I'm not afraid. I want to find my Papa, to make sure he's safe. Besides, if he's hurt, you may need someone else to help carry him."

"True," Koru conceded thoughtfully. "But other friends, men, can help. Even if Medemoseru makes it through Nagasaki not seen, there is forest. Has Medemoseru not heard stories?"

"The bookseller told me a little. There's supposed to be a castle in the forest, an _oshiro_, and a great creature that lives there and eats travelers. But he said no one had ever seen it. I thought it was all just silly stories made up so people would stay out of the forest."

"Not so!" said Koru with a shudder that ended in a wince. "Stories warn, yes. But forest is evil. No animals, no birds. They know evil better than men. Medemoseru must stay here."

"I can't!" Belle cried. "The forest, even a haunted forest, would be safer for me than staying here alone." Though she had sworn she would tell no one but her father, she confessed all of her problems with Getsuru to the small porter.

Koru's face darkened. "Impertinent boy, trying to become man by stealing pale-face bride," he hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits. "If it were not forbidden for peasant to battle samurai for woman's honor…"

"And if you weren't hurt," Belle pointed out.

"Yes. I would challenge him. It is dishonorable thing Getsuru does."

"Would it be…less dishonorable for you to take me into Nagasaki, even if it's illegal?" Belle asked, hoping she sounded convincing, "It would keep me safe from Getsuru until we find my father."

She remained silent as Koru considered. "Death if we are caught," he warned.

"My father may be dying. I have to save him if I can." Belle stuck her chin out, hoping the gesture meant the same thing in Nippon as it did at home.

It worked. Koru grinned. "Medemoseru is stubborn. And clever. We will go together to find your father."

Only an hour later, long before dawn, Belle and Koru slipped from the house. Belle had dressed in her simple blue gown and apron, concealing it all in the blue cloak Getsuru had given her. She had discovered it on the floor of her room when she had gone to change, and realized she had mistakenly carried it all the way home with her on her wild run from Bram's house. There was no harm in her using it, and Koru had given her an approving look when she returned to the ground floor wearing it.

Koru led his slender shadow to a different secret entrance to Nagasaki than Getsuru used, this one concealed behind the elderly tailor's home.

"Does the tailor know this is here?" Belle whispered as she waited for Koru to give the all-clear signal for her to duck through the tiny chink in the wall.

"Shi-shi!" Koru scolded, shaking his head. Belle guessed this was the Nipponese way of saying "Shhhh!" She fell silent, and said no more as he waved her through the entrance. Belle, careful to keep her concealing cloak around her, wriggled through and stepped for the first time outside the Dutch quarter. She was struck by how different the houses were: low and rambling, with dividing walls between each one and wide, sloping roofs made of slate rather than wood. Dim light and soft music spilled out of a few, despite the early hour.

"Pleasure district," Koru told her, anticipating her question. "Do not speak from now on, Medemoseru. Accent will give you away."

Belle nodded, and they slid into the shadows.

Koru led them on a maze of backstreets, many so narrow that one person could barely squeeze between the houses. Hours passed, and Koru never faltered. No one stopped them, though they twice saw drunken samurai staggering home after a night of drinking. At last, closer to dawn, they emerged from the crush of houses. Across a narrow meadow the forest reared up like a siege wall.

"Here," Koru said, pausing to catch his breath. "This is where Mishiyuru was taken." He pointed to a set of footprints, and a dark trail of trampled grass running though the meadow and into the trees. Belle drew her cloak tighter around her to stave off a shiver as she looked at the forest, and followed Koru across the meadow.

Belle could tell when the sun rose because it began to grow warmer, not because she could see any better. Almost no light penetrated the forest's inky depths. It seemed no one had been there for ages, which was almost fortunate since the trail of broken branches left by Maurice's kidnappers was as clear as a paved road. Still, Belle found herself missing paved roads as they made their way deeper and deeper into the trees.

At last, they paused in a small clearing. Several clubs and daggers had been stashed there and a small firepit had been built in the center, testament to the hideout of the gang. No one was there, but there was also no blood and no signs of a struggle.

"Men went no further than here," Koru said, after examining the edges of the clearing. "Mishiyuru went that way," he added, pointing to a smaller trail leading off in a different direction than the main set of broken branches.

"Why didn't they kill him here?" asked Belle, her voice trembling. "They were prepared," she added bitterly, gesturing at the stacked weapons.

"Something frightened them," Koru said grimly. "Medemoseru should stay here, wait for my return. I will find him."

"No," Belle answered. "I'm coming with you, and you can't stop me. Besides, what if those men come back and find a _gaijin_ woman here?"

Koru scowled, but made no further objection. They started off into the trees again, Koru leading. Belle followed, one hand on his shoulder so that they would not be separated.

They continued walking all that day. Belle was wishing she had thought to bring food, or at least a skin of water. Just when she thought she could bear her hunger, thirst, and overall her weariness, no more, Koru stopped abruptly. Belle could feel his shoulder stiffen beneath her hand. She peered around him, curious—and froze.

Before them was an enormous gate made of solid wooden bars, designed in such a way that Belle was reminded of the portcullis she had once seen in an old castle in Belgium. It was set in a massive wall made of white stone stretching into the forest as far as the eye could see. Peering through the gate, each bar the size of a modest tree trunk, Belle saw a vast, sandy courtyard. A colossal structure built high on a stone foundation stood on the far side.

"What is this place?" she asked, horrified and fascinated in equal measure at the sheer size of everything before her.

"_Kemono-jo_," whispered Koru.

"What?" Belle turned to look at him.

His face was white in the dying light of the sun. "Beast's castle."

_Author's note: And…bwaaaaamp! Scary Asian cymbal clash! Sorry, always wanted to do that. More language notes: Japanese does not contain words like "the" and "a", tending to rely on other cues within the sentence to indicate what the speaker is talking about. I have tried to maintain this in Koru's speech patterns, though if a few "the's" slipped in it was only in the interest of clarity for the English-speaking reader. The Japanese also find the terms "you" and "your" very familiar, and tend to use them only among family and extremely close friends. So I have kept these to a minimum when Koru speaks Dutch to Belle and Maurice, since he is very decorous, and done the opposite in Getsuru's speeches to emphasize both his rudeness to Belle and his extensive enculturation with the outsiders. Ja matashita (until next time),_

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	7. Intruder at the Oshiro

**Chapter 6**

_Disclaimer: Disney owns. Any questions?_

_Two Nights Previous_

Soft footfalls, the light click of claws on wood. The hiss of hot breath escaping his nostrils. Occasionally, a metallic, musical, _cling!_ as scales gently rubbed one another. After more than nine years, these were the sounds the Beast was accustomed to making as he moved through the _oshiro_. His _oshiro. _ Sinuous as a snake, all four clawed paws moving in harmony, he glided over the nightingale floor, making his way towards his suite of rooms. The floor gave its customary cry as he moved over it, making him twist his scaly lips upward in a semblance of a smile. After all this time, the familiarity of the nightingale floor's song was still a comforting one. One of the few comforts left to him.

True, his servants still waited on him, though the grotesque _onii_ forms that the _yuurei_ had given them at the same time she had transformed their master into his dragon shape had been disconcerting at first. The Beast wanted for nothing. Except...something was missing. Something he could not even name, but it gnawed at his heart and sent him into fits of helpless rage and despondency that could last for weeks at a time.

Sliding open the wooden doors to his suite with his long muzzle, the Beast glanced about the darkened room. The silence that greeted him drew another thin, icy veil across him, making him shiver slightly in spite of himself. With a snort that exhumed a short blast of flame from his nostrils, the Beast proceeded into the room and lit a few lamps with his breath. The room had once been simply decorated with the finest of furniture, made to be comfortable and functional for a reclusive scholar prince, but the years and the Beast's destructive fury had left their mark. Only the sturdiest furniture remained intact, and all was deeply pitted with dragon claw-marks. Even the walls had not survived well; they were viscously clawed in some places and burned coal-black in others. The elegant wall screens had been torn down long ago and lay strewn about the room in costly shreds. The only thing left untouched was Nightingale, his _katana_ sword, still hanging in its customary place the wall. It shone as if newly polished and sharpened, though it had been many years since it had known either polishing cloth or swordsmith. The vines etched into its metal skin were still dark. Only the single rose remaining near the haft looked dull and faded, marking the passing of his final year to escape from the _yuurei_'s cruel curse.

Rearing up awkwardly on his hind legs, the Beast traced that rose with a claw. Not long now.

Suddenly, his sensitive ears picked up a sound, echoing through the still-open doors. A sound that didn't seem to belong to the dark, enchanted world of his _oshiro_. His fire-colored eyes narrowed, and he slid to the suite entrance, sharp claws making almost no sound.

Tilting his head to catch the slightest noise, the Beast listened intently for a minute or two without moving. Yes! A stranger's voice drifted in the corridors. After nine years, he knew the voice of each and every servant. This voice did not belong. Not at all. It was male, timid, and spoke with the oddest accent the Beast had ever heard. Certainly not Nipponese, but not Dutch, either, which he had heard occasionally at court when he was small.

Curious in spite of himself, the Beast inserted his claws into grooves he had put into the walls and ceiling over the years and began to climb. Climbing upside down from beam to beam on the ceiling was both his way of avoiding the nightingale floor and ensuring that he was only seen when he wanted to be seen. In this way he silently crept into the main portion of the _oshiro_, following the stranger's voice.

At last, he rounded a dark corner and found himself looking into a small room with a cheerful fire at its center. Kneeling next to it on a floor cushion was the stranger. The Beast's stomach gave a painful twist as he surveyed the man. A man of the West! Someone he would have longed to meet had he been in human form. But something was clearly wrong. This man's clothing was dirty and torn, and the ashen flesh that the Beast could see from his odd angle was mottled with dark bruises. He seemed quite old, his hair was mostly white, and he was short and plump with a prominent nose. That in particular fascinated the Beast. He had never seen a nose such as that before in his life.

He continued to watch undetected as a few of his servants bustled in with tea for the old stranger. _That_ made any pity the Beast felt for the injured intruder melt away like ice held over a cookfire. His servants were supposed to serve _only_ him. Clearly they had forgotten their duty and their oaths of absolute loyalty.

The Beast continued to watch, rage and jealousy smoldering like flame in his heart as his servants gathered around the old man. Though clearly he did not understand Nipponese very well, the fellow did his best to interact with them in a hodgepodge of stilted Nipponese phrases and muttering to himself in both Dutch and another language the Beast could not identify. He did not seem much bothered by the servants' strange, implike appearances. Perhaps he thought he was hallucinating. He would have more to hallucinate when the Beast was through with him.

The Beast announced his presence with a low, threatening growl that rolled around the room like thunder. The servants froze, their bulging yellow eyes darting around the room nervously.

The old man spoke in Dutch, which only the Beast understood: "What's going on? What is it?"

From an onlooker's perspective, the Beast abruptly appeared in the room as if by magic. In reality, he had simply dropped from his hiding place amid the ceiling beams, flipping in the air with practiced ease. The old man's eyes bulged as he surveyed the snarling monster that seemed to have come from nowhere.

"What are you doing here?" the Beast growled in Dutch, baring his gleaming mouthful of teeth. He hadn't practiced speaking the language in many years, and was glad he remembered enough to be able to get his meaning across.

The man's eyes started out even more. "You speak my language?"

"I do. Now, answer my question. What are you doing here?"

Trembling, the old man tried to stand and fell back with a gasp of pain. "I was taken into the forest by a group of men who wished to kill me. These…creatures," he indicated the cowering servants, "were kind enough to rescue me from my captors and lead me here. They said they could help me."

"These creatures are _onii_ demons, and _my _servants. Which they seem to have forgotten," the Beast snarled, with a poisonous glare at the _onii_. They backed away even more, but did not dare bolt for fear of further angering their master.

"_Gomen nasai_," the old man whispered in heavily accented Nipponese. The Beast tried once again to place the accent and could not, which fueled his temper even more.

"You are trespassing in my domain. You deserve to be punished," he snarled, a few flames dripping from between his teeth like molten saliva.

The man threw himself facefirst to the floor. The desperate gesture was familiar to the Beast, but he was in no mood to consider the similarities between this scenario and the one involving the _oshiro_'s previous unwelcome intruder. However, something in him softened, just a bit, at the pitiful sight.

So instead of ordering the _onii_ to kill him, something they would have been obliged to do even against their wills, or simply dispatching the man himself, he bent and snagged the man's shredded clothing in his teeth and hauled him roughly to his feet.

"Start walking."

The old man did so, hobbling painfully away from the fire and into the corridor. "Please, sir," he begged in Dutch, "I meant no harm. I only needed a place to stay until I recovered enough to return to Nagasaki."

"And so I shall give you a place to _stay_!" the Beast snarled irritably, annoyed more at his own weakness at letting the man live than at the man himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some of the servants begin cleaning up the spilled tea and broken china caused by his sudden appearance. The rest watched him shove the old man roughly down the corridor towards the _oshiro's_ unused dungeons with reproachful gleams in their large yellow eyes.

_Author's note: We finally get to see how Maurice escaped and ended up at the oshiro! Yay for cliffhangers! Gomen nasai and much groveling to TrudiRose, from whose thought-provoking story "Second Chance" I borrowed the idea that Maurice's intrusion would remind the Beast of the Enchantress's (in my version yuurei's) original visit. I simply made it the reason the coldhearted dragon-prince didn't kill Maurice on sight, because my Beast would have done so without a second thought. And yes! He breathes fire, though not much and not far._


	8. Demon Deal

**Chapter 7**

_Disclaimer: Disney--yes. Me--no._

_Two days later, dusk_

Belle stared at the shaken Koru in horror. "_What?_ I thought you said the monster's castle was impossible to find!" Koru looked at her in confusion, and she realized that she had spoken in French in her distress. She translated her words into Dutch for the tiny man.

"Stories say impossible. I say nothing so foolish," he reminded her. "And there is accursed _oshiro_ before us."

As this was undeniably true, Belle did not say anything for several seconds. Then she ventured, "Is it possible…could my father be…_inside_ that dreadful place?"

"Afraid no doubt is possible." At Belle's puzzled expression, Koru rephrased. "He is there. And we can go no further."

"Why not? If we know where he is, then we can—"

"Ah, Medemoseru is brave to suggest such thing. Noble's thought. But we cannot enter. Those who enter, never return." Koru tugged on her sleeve. "Come. Must go back now."

"But—" Tears gathered in Belle's eyes at the thought of her beloved father, gone. Gone forever. Like her mother. Something hardened inside Belle at that thought. Her mother had been taken sick so suddenly, there had been almost no time to even send for the doctor before she was beyond anyone's help. All Belle could do for her was hold her hand and pray as she died.

Belle hadn't had the chance to save her mother. She could not give up the slender hope that she could save what was left of her family, not now that they were so close.

She took a step towards that massive, silent gate. "I'll go in and find him."

"No!" Koru seized her arm to hold her back. "Medemoseru cannot!"

"I must!" Belle shook him off and spun to face him. His eyes were narrowed, and there were a few tears leaking out of them. Belle wiped away her own tears and stood strong. "My father is my only family. All that's left. If there's a chance he might still be alive, I have to rescue him. I have no choice."

The little porter studied her face carefully. At last, he said softly, "Medemoseru is all fire-passion and wood-stubborn. Needs water to balance her nature." He held up his hand to silence her protests. "But if she feels she must go, then she must. I shall await here."

"Thank you, Koru. You've been…a good friend," Belle said, trying to sound braver than she felt. She held out a hand to shake. Koru took it and bowed deeply over it instead. If he had been a Frenchman, Belle got the sense that he would have kissed her hand to wish her luck. But the bow was enough to convey the same.

Belle turned away and nervously started towards the gate.

Approaching the portcullis was hard for Belle, but actually touching it was harder. At last, she screwed up her courage and put her fingertips on the wood. It felt solid enough. After all she'd heard about the elusiveness of the _oshiro_, she'd half-expected it to melt away like a mirage. Putting both hands on the rounded beam nearest her head, Belle peered through the grating. The castle stretched above her, white and imposing. To either side of the smoothly-raked sand courtyard, she could see glimpses of elaborate, well-kept gardens with neat paths running through them. Belle shuddered involuntarily. No untended garden looked that neat and in order, and gardens such as those must require work every day to maintain their perfection. Clearly this place was still inhabited by someone. Or something. She shivered again, and began glancing about for a way to get through the gate. It looked as if it could withstand a siege, and the openings between the beams were too small for her to squeeze through. Belle stepped back to get a wider angle of the problem.

And the gate moved. On nearly silent hinges it wound upward on its own, while Belle nervously glanced at the covered gate house to see if she could spot a face. There seemed to be no one there.

When the gate was fully open, Belle screwed up her courage and darted through, praying that the heavy, pointed tips of the vertical beams were not about to come crashing down on her. Nothing of the kind happened, but when she was fully inside the castle courtyard the gate quietly lowered again as it had been before. Belle stared at it, then waved to Koru through the grating. She thought he might have raised a hand in reply, but couldn't be sure through her tears.

Brushing the tears away, Belle glanced left and right at the entrances to the gardens. Her father was likely not there, and she might spend hours wandering the paths if she went that way. She turned and surveyed the castle itself. It looked even more imposing and impenetrable from the courtyard than it did from outside the gate.

_Well, you're here now,_ Belle thought unhappily to herself, _and no way out. Nowhere to go but in._ She took a deep breath, and made her feet begin walking forward.

The main doors to the _oshiro_ were closed, but large and thick as they were Belle found that they opened smoothly when she pulled. She peered timidly around the door, half-hoping and half-fearing she might see someone. Neither her fears nor her hopes were answered. There was no one there. Only silence, and a long, dark hallway, greeted her.

"Bonjour? Papa?" Belle called. If her father was here, he would understand and answer her. Let anyone else who heard wonder what she was saying. But her voice simply echoed back to her from the empty hallway.

Belle stepped inside and swung the doors gently shut behind her, almost glad of the gentle _crunch_ they made when they came together. The hush in the _oshiro_ was oppressive, as bad as the silence when she had first returned to their home in the Dutch quarter the morning after her father left with Koru and his invention. _How long ago that seems!_ Belle thought a bit wryly.

There was a single step up from the small ante way onto the main, polished floor of the hall. Belle removed her shoes and stepped onto the wood in her stocking feet, remembering from her favorite book that the Nipponese considered it good manners to do so. It felt odd to her, and she paused to wriggle her toes experimentally a few times, testing the smoothed grain of the wood before moving on down the darkening hallway.

Here and there Belle wandered, meeting no one, and in a very short space of time she was completely lost. She passed reception halls, tea rooms, rooms filled with dusty samurai armor, and rooms for a thousand other functions without ever passing the same thing twice that she could remember. She kept calling for her Papa, eventually only to make some noise in the silence-choked castle. Several times she thought she heard footsteps just around the corner, but when she hurried ahead there was never anyone there. Once she heard an odd scrabbling noise, like claws on wood, behind her. When she turned to look, the hallway she had just come down was blocked by a paper screen wall that had not been there moments before. This unnerved her so badly that she took the next several turns without noticing where she was going, her only thought being to get away from that moving wall. When she paused to take in her surroundings, she noticed a tiny flicker of light around the next corner.

"Wait!" Belle called in Dutch, rushing forward. "Please! I'm looking for—" She rounded the corner, only to discover the light was already fading down a corridor she knew she had never seen before. Instead of wood or paper, it was lined in stone and seemed to lead into the depths of the castle. Hoping to catch up with the light-bearer, Belle fairly flew down the hallway, turning corners without a pause, until she nearly rushed headlong into a dead-end. Glancing around, she saw a wooden trapdoor set into the floor. Lifting it was heavy work, but when she'd finally swung it open and called "Papa?" a dearly familiar voice answered with a feeble "Belle? Is that you?"

"Papa!" Belle nearly fell off the ladder leading down from the trapdoor in her eagerness to reach him. She found herself in a rounded room with several doors with barred windows, and realized she must be in a dungeon of some kind. A rustle of movement came from a cell on the left, and her father appeared at the bars.

"Belle? How did you find me, _ma petite_?"

"Oh, Papa." Belle surveyed her father in the feeble light from a guttering lamp hanging near the ladder. He was at least as bad off as Koru, covered with bruises, but he wasn't bleeding and had were no broken bones that she could see. "You look terrible. How are we going to get you out of there? Who did this to you?"

"Belle, you have to get out while you still…" Maurice trailed off with a gasp of horror. His eyes focused on something behind Belle, and he turned even paler, if that was possible. "Run! Now!"

Belle spun just as the lamp's flame was extinguished by a huff of air. In the complete blackness that followed she heard a scraping sound, along with a series of soft, metallic chinks that reminded her of the clanking of chain mail. Then the lamp abruptly came back on, appearing as if from nowhere. In its shadows, out of the direct light, a figure sat where there had been nothing before. Belle could see little of it, except for the reflection of light off of scales and claws, and a pair of burning eyes.

"Who are you?" she demanded, struggling to keep her voice from shaking too badly.

"I think that question is better put to you," a snarling, throaty voice answered. Though the accent was heavily Nipponese, whatever sat in the shadows spoke better Dutch even than Getsuru.

"I'm…" Belle stopped, and knitted her brow. "Why should I tell you who I am? It's not important. But if you're the one who's imprisoned my father, please let him out. Can't you see he's badly hurt? What kind of monster are you?"

"I am the master of this _oshiro_. I answer to no one. Your father should not have trespassed here," the voice snapped, but Belle thought she detected a hint of surprise behind the growl.

"I'd do anything to free him," she declared. "I'll even take his place, if you'll let him go."

"Belle!" gasped Maurice from behind her. "You don't know what you're saying! Please, sir," he added to the figure, "forgive her. She is young, and often impulsive—"

The creature in the shadows had shifted at Belle's words. Now she could see a patch of brilliant red scales, and a long, lithe shape like a massive serpent with four legs. _A dragon? Here?_ The thought came to her unbidden. The shadow spoke again, ignoring Maurice completely and addressing Belle. "You would take your father's place?"

"_If_ I were to take his place here, would you release him? Give him safe passage out of your castle and to my guide, who is waiting at the gate?" Belle asked, hoping she was not pushing too hard.

The scaled shadow considered for a moment. "I believe that is reasonable. Very well; if you take your father's place, then he goes free and unharmed out of my _oshiro_. But in exchange, you must promise to stay here forever."

Belle shuddered at his words. Spend the rest of her life in this silent place, never to see a human soul again? How could she bear it? She had no choice, not if she wanted to save her father. Still—

"Could you…could you come into the light?" she asked quietly.

"I could. But I am not sure that is wise," the voice rumbled. "Still, since you ask, I will oblige you." There was a slithery sound of scales on stone, and a large paw tipped with five, long, wicked-looking silver claws appeared in the lamplight. It was followed by a thick, stunted leg that was splayed for walking on all fours and trying to support a body standing upright. Another leg followed, along with a long, scaly white belly, two smaller front legs, and a red-scaled tail with a flame-shaped tip. Last of all the head came clear, and Belle could not help gasping. Surrounded by a brilliant gold crest was a scarlet lizard's head made for biting and tearing with razor-sharp ivory teeth. But it was the eyes that arrested her, for she had never seen a pair like them. They were slit-pupiled like a cat's, and their color was fire: golden on the outer edges, shifting through red and orange and white, with traces of deep azure-blue at the very core. Their expression was impossible to read, but looking into them, Belle somehow got the impression of immense sadness behind their impenetrable, shifting depths. She blinked, and the moment, the feeling, was over.

Standing to its full height, which would have been its length had it been walking properly, the creature had to be at least seven feet, perhaps nine or ten if the tail was included. As if satisfied that the desired impression had been made, the dragon, the Beast, dropped lightly to all fours, which brought its head a foot or so below Belle's.

"Well?" it said, so softly that its voice sounded like distant thunder rather than the full storm. "Have we a bargain?"

"No, Belle! Don't do this!" Maurice cried, breaking her silent contemplation. She glanced back at him. He was pressed against the bars of his prison, desperate to stop her, and she could not prevent the tears from gathering at the sight.

She took her father's hand, squeezing it hard and desperate. Then she closed her eyes, and made her decision.

"We have a bargain."

_Author's note: And so our future lovers have met and clashed for the first time. (shivers with excitement) I doubt it will be the last! I hope all of you are enjoying this process as much as I have so far! Thanks to _all_ who have reviewed, it's helped a lot._

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	9. Captor and Captive

**Chapter 8**

_Disclaimer: Plot, characters, etc… of Beauty and the Beast are the property of Disney. Pas moi._

The Beast was completely taken aback by the girl's agreement to be held at the _oshiro_ in her father's stead. She had already surprised him greatly with her complete lack of decorum in addressing him. Even her father had spoken far more politely than this bold young woman. No one had ever dared speak to him in such a manner, for even before the curse he had always been the future Shogun and the master of all he saw. Ordinarily such disrespect as the girl had shown would have sent him into a fit of spiteful rage, but he was now experiencing nearly the opposite reaction: her audacity almost made him feel…intrigued. Where had she learned such strength of mind?

She was very pretty, beautiful, even, in a way that seemed exotic to him from what he could see of her in the lamp's dim light. She was taller than the average Nipponese woman, though obviously still much shorter than he. Her skin was clear and pale, without a blemish, her teeth even and white, and her nose short and straight. Her eyes and hair were both shades he had never before encountered: brown hair with a few shifting highlights like well-finished dark wood furniture, and large eyes that were a startling leaf-green. He knew that gold hair and blue eyes were revered as lucky among his own raven-haired, dark-eyed people, but never had he imagined that hair and eye colors such as this girl's could combine to produce such a radiant effect.

He had detected her intrusion almost the moment she had entered the front gate, of course, having been somewhat on edge since her father's abrupt appearance two evenings before. The _onii_ servants thought they were being clever again, allowing her to slip in without seeing them and then leading her to the dungeon area with a dim lamp. The Beast had followed her from his usual place among the ceiling beams, moving more silently than he had ever done before. The only tense moment had come when one of the sliding paper walls had begun to close itself directly behind her and he had been forced to move quickly if he wanted to continue to tail her. Fortunately the discovery of the panel's movement had frightened her enough that she noticed little else for some minutes, or she might have detected him. It was comforting to know that _something_ frightened her, for though she had been horrified by his appearance in the light of the dungeon's single lamp she had still boldly agreed to remain, thus sparing her father's life and sacrificing her own freedom.

_Keep your mind in the moment!_ he scolded himself mentally, using the words of his old fencing _sensei_ when he'd let his attention wander too long. "Very well then. We have a bargain indeed. See that you remember it," he said to the girl, and proceeded past her to unlock her father's prison door with a claw. She moved uneasily out of range of his jaws.

The man rushed to seize his daughter in a fierce embrace, and spoke a few rapid sentences to her in the strange language that the Beast could not understand. Before she could reply, the Beast thrust his toothy muzzle between them and growled threateningly. The man staggered away, nearly knocking over the wooden ladder that led to the rest of the _oshiro_. Though he was careful never to touch the old man, with snarls and jaw-snaps the Beast rapidly prodded him to climb the ladder. In this manner he quick-marched his former prisoner to the main doors of the _oshiro_ keep.

"There is the way out of my domain, _gaijin_," the Beast growled as the man staggered out into the moonlight. "Your daughter has bargained for your freedom, and thus I release you. But see that you never return here, or your own life as well as hers will be forfeit."

Despite his injuries, the old man moved away surprisingly rapidly. The _onii_ gatekeeper raised the portcullis gate, and within moments the squat figure of the girl's father had vanished into the dark forest outside the _oshiro_'s walls. The Beast watched him go with a satisfied snort. Then his stomach clenched. What was he supposed to do with his lovely prisoner now?

In the dungeon, Belle did not allow her tears to fall until she could hear no more of the Beast's claws on the stone floor above her. To be parted from her father forever was a terrible concept that she was only just beginning to absorb, but at the moment what seemed especially cruel to her was that they had not even been allowed farewells. All Maurice had had time to say, rapidly and in French, was, "Belle, please. Listen to me. You don't have to do this. You're young, you have so much more ahead of you than I. _Ma petite_, I can't bear to think—" before they had been separated by the Beast. Belle couldn't bear to think at the moment, either, but even the chance to say so to her father had been denied her. So as silence filled the dungeon again Belle sat on the dusty floor, lowered her head, and wept in despair.

It occurred to her before too long that the Beast had not locked her in one of the cells. But what that might mean she could not possibly begin to fathom. Perhaps he -- it --was only waiting to do so until her father was out of the picture. So Belle remained there on the floor, defeated and too frightened to move, knees hugged tight to her chest, tears making tracks down her cheeks.

So absorbed in her own misery was she that she did not notice at first when the Beast himself returned. How long he'd sat there with his front paws on the topmost rung of the ladder, watching her sob quietly, she had no idea. She simply looked up, and there was that triangular scarlet face with its golden crest, observing her out of fire-colored eyes. Immediately she stood, hiding clenched fists in her blue skirt, and waited for him to say something. Or do something. But he'd seemed lost in his own thoughts.

At last, feeling she had to break the silence somehow, Belle said softly, voice wobbling, "You didn't even let us say _goodbye_."

The Beast blinked at her, as if the thought had never occurred to him. "My apologies," he said, but it sounded like an automatic response and not at all as if he were truly sorry.

This only fueled Belle's temper. "It was the least you could have done." Immediately, she regretted speaking so rashly as he bared his front teeth in a soundless snarl.

"And I could just have easily gone back on our bargain, _onna no gaijin_, and ordered the execution of you both," he snapped. "Be grateful I have not done so, and take care how you address me. But for now, follow me. I will take you to your room."

"My _room_?" Belle almost choked on her surprise at this statement. First he was threatening her, and suddenly, in the same breath, trying to be…gracious? "But—" She glanced at the still-open door of her father's cell.

"Or you may stay here in my dungeon. If you wish." To her surprise, Belle detected a hint of sarcasm in his growling voice. She must have looked taken aback, for he clacked his teeth and said, "I thought so. Come with me."

Belle gulped, and started towards the ladder.

The Beast led her on a seemingly random route through the halls and corridors of the _oshiro_. Despite her wanderings earlier, Belle recognized very few of the rooms they passed. In the dim light of the lamp the Beast had bidden her to bring up from the dungeons with her, Belle could see vague, threatening shapes that she could not quite make out carved and painted onto many surfaces, both wood and paper. At last, the Beast halted outside a Western-style wooden door, the first she had seen in the castle, and said gruffly, "Here is your room. You are free to go anywhere you wish in my _oshiro_ and its gardens, except for one place. If ever you encounter a floor that sings like a nightingale as you set foot on it, know that you are not permitted to cross it."

"What—" Belle began to ask.

"You are never to go there!" he growled, and her lantern flared with the sparks that dripped from his mouth. Belle jumped back and nearly fell against the door. "That's better," the Beast said approvingly when she had recovered somewhat. "A bit of healthy respect in my presence will do you no harm. Now, if there is anything you require, you have but to ask my servants. They will be along to attend you shortly. You are to join me for dinner in half an hour."

"But I don't—"

"That is not a request!" A few sparks appeared at the corners of his mouth again.

Belle was not so easily intimidated a second time. Eyes burning to match his, chin thrust out dangerously, Belle opened the door to her room and walked deliberately inside. It was all she could do not to slam the door in her captor's face, but she restrained herself with all her might. She even managed to keep her expression fairly neutral until the door had shut completely and she was all alone. Then she flung herself on the first cushioned surface she saw, buried her face deep within it, and screamed until she had no energy left except to release her pent-up sobs. Eventually, and for the second time in two days, she cried herself to sleep with tears of despair and loneliness.

_Author's note: Whew! Just writing all the complex reactions in this chapter is exhausting. Not much for me to say, except that sensei means teacher, and onna no gaijin simply means "woman foreigner". I don't know any good insults in Japanese, regrettably._


	10. Clash and Burn

**Chapter 9**

_Disclaimer: Insert (creative way of saying Disney owns various things included in this story) here._

_Half an hour later_

Dai could barely contain his anticipation. After nearly ten years, a human visitor had come to stay at the _oshiro_ of his master. And not just any guest: a young woman, one who might possibly break the curse at last. If only she and the Master could be brought to love each other. Dai's head was already whirling with plans of what he might possibly do first once he was human again.

His mother told him not to be too premature, but Dai could not resist bursting out with some new hope or dream every so often as he helped her prepare the evening meal in the kitchen. And when it was declared that someone had to go to the newcomer's room and announce dinner, Dai immediately volunteered. The other servants gave him odd looks for his enthusiasm, but he shrugged them off.

As he expertly hopped through the twisting corridors of the _oshiro_ on his stunted legs, Dai had some time to reflect. He had been in the Master's service only a month before the onset of the curse, and despite being the youngest out of all the servants he had been transformed like the others into the shape of a gnomelike _onii_ demon. Each person's appearance was unique, but in Dai's case the curse meant a two-foot height, knobbly dark blue skin, bulging yellow eyes akin to a toad's, and only one arm. He had grown quite adept over the years at performing various unheard-of feats with his single upper appendage, such as tree climbing. His mother always scolded him for getting into such danger, but like most of her other concerns for him Dai took this as over-protectiveness. After all, he was thirteen, and old enough to make his own decisions. He had been thirteen for quite awhile now, he reminded himself with a lopsided grin, and had never lost his childlike sense of wonder at the world. Nor that independent streak that often comes with teenagehood.

He arrived at the room the Master had designated as the newcomer's, the only bedroom in the _oshiro_ that was decorated in the European fashion. It was odd to see the wooden door, when most of the rooms were only a sliding paper wall away. He rapped on the door with his right-hand knuckles, pleased with the sound it made.

A female voice answered from inside, and for the first time Dai wished he hadn't volunteered to fetch the girl to dinner. He'd forgotten in his excitement that he did not speak her language well; ten years of sneaking looks at the Master's Dutch books and speaking it occasionally with his mother, a former _geisha_ entertainer to the Dutch quarter, did not make up for being confronted with a native speaker.

"Dinner is ready!" he called. Or at least he hoped that's what he had said.

The door opened, and Dai looked up, and up, and _up._ Humans were _tall_. He'd forgotten. And the girl was no girl, really, she was the tallest woman Dai had ever seen. She was looking up and down the hall with a puzzled expression, as if she'd expected someone at her own level. Dai noticed that her face was blotchy and her eyes red-rimmed, as if she'd been crying. He felt a bit sorry for her. After all, everyone else in the household had had nearly ten years to get used to the repercussions of the transformation, and here she was thrust into the center of a design she knew nothing of. She had handled things admirably well so far, he thought.

He cleared his throat, and the young woman looked down and gasped. Then she smiled, and said, slowly and clearly in Dutch, "Forgive me, little friend. But are you the one sent to attend me?"

"_Hai, ii desu ne_," Dai answered automatically, the standard Nipponese affirmative answer.

"Ah. Well then, inform your master, little friend, that I shall not join him."

Dai leaped back in alarm. "Bad idea anger master. Why not go?"

"_Onaka ga suite imasen_," she replied in stunted, accented, Nipponese. But her meaning was clear.

"Not hungry? My mother will not like. She make good food. Come. Feel better when eat."

"Thank you, but no." A ghost of a smile chased across her far-away lips. "Tell your mother—and your master—_gomen nasai_ for me." And the door closed with a gentle snap of wood on wood.

Dai was completely dumbfounded. No one had ever before refused the Master point-blank. It just wasn't done. But he had no choice. It was exceptionally disrespectful to argue with one he was serving; his mother had told him that many times before he had officially joined the household as one of the low-ranking pages. So away he hopped down the hall to inform the Master.

Dai found his mother and one of the upper servants attending the Master when he entered the lesser dining hall where the Master usually took his solitary meals when they were not brought to his room. The small _onii_ swallowed his nerves and bowed low when the three in the room acknowledged him.

"Your…your guest…" Dai began, but then he had to stop. He had no idea how the Master would take this news. According to his friend Setsuko, the senior page who had dared to lead the young woman to her father in the dungeon using a lantern and then listen in on the conversation there, she had already had at least one conflict of wills with the Master. Setsuko's eyes had almost been glowing with admiration when he spoke of the daring in her tone, though he had not understood the words. And now here she was spurning the Master's best hospitality. Dai swallowed, and tried again. "Master, your guest wished me to inform you that…" His courage failed anew, and he faltered at the look like hot coals the Master was giving him. He took refuge in staring at the very tip of the Master's tail, and finished, "…that she is not hungry."

"_What?_" Dai staggered back a pace at the white-hot rage that smoked off the Master's voice. In a flash of scarlet scales, the Master was already out the door, heading in the direction Dai had just come from. Feeling that he ought to follow, Dai forced his quaking knees to move, with his mother and the other servant behind him.

By the time they arrived at the corridor where the young woman's room was located, their master had been there for several seconds already. His eyes were live coals of anger, and red-hot sparks were falling from his mouth like a waterfall. At any moment, Dai could tell, he was going to unleash a blast of flame that would disintegrate the door. And likely most of the surrounding wall as well.

"Master, please! Calm yourself!" Dai's mother Mitsuko, the chief maid, called, momentarily diverting his attention. The sparks lessened, though they still continued to fall from his mouth every few seconds.

"I have given her an ultimatum, Mitsuko-san," he hissed, his voice a barely-controlled, poisonous hiss. "Either she comes out of her room, or I will burn the door down myself and drag her there!"

"Master," interjected Sasaki-san, the head of deportment, "This humble one is very likely incorrect, but that may not be the most efficient way to accomplish your goal. Depriving her of privacy may prove…detrimental to your relationship in the future."

Their Master opened his mouth to snarl a reply, and then thought for a moment. "You may be right. Very well, I will try again." Whereupon he said something else to his prisoner in Dutch. Dai, listening intently, caught the word "dinner," but that was the limit of his understanding. He understood her reply easily enough, however, for she repeated her earlier Nipponese words: "_Onaka ga suite imasen_."

"_Onegaishimasu_?" the Master said, almost in an undertone. Dai could tell from Sasaki-san's expression that it had taken all his effort not to gasp aloud. The Master had voiced a humble form of 'please', one from an underling to a superior asking a favor. Though it had been spoken in an almost sulky manner, it was the first time any of the listening servants had heard their master use such a term.

But the young woman, _gaijin_ that she was, could not possibly understand the implications of what had just taken place. She was as polite and firm as ever in her Dutch response, and Dai understood it to mean "Thank you all the same, but I would rather not."

The reaction to this pronouncement was immediate on the Nipponese side of the door. The Master's golden crest snapped open with startling speed, a sign that he was furious. Though he did not blow fire, as he might well have, his words in Dutch were almost indistinguishable from the roar escaping his lips. The _oshiro_ walls shook with its force, but nothing would make that single, stubborn wooden door open.

"She shall starve if she so desires, unless she bows to my wishes. Feed her nothing, do not entertain her! The stiffest punishment to any who disobey these instructions!" the Beast hissed at last through bared teeth. Then he vanished down the corridor towards his own suite with a clash of claws on wood.

The servants looked at one another helplessly out of their large eyes. "_Jyaa,_ that did not go well," Dai's mother admitted after a moment. "I will attempt to reason with her. Dai, you may come with me if you wish. Sasaki-san, go to the kitchen and inform the rest of the household of the situation."

"As you say, Mitsuko-san." Sasaki-san departed with a bow.

"Come, Dai," his mother said after the deportment master was out of sight. "We shall see what can be done." She tapped gently on the door with her knuckles.

Trailing sparks freely, the Beast stormed across the nightingale floor. The doors to his suite flew open with a resounding bang that rattled the age-worn frames.

"I don't understand it!" the Beast roared. As a human, he had been in the habit of talking to himself when frustrated, but had broken it quickly upon the transformation. The sound of his own growling, raspy voice had been enough in those days to send him back into deep depression at what had become of his life. But now, so furious he could scarcely see straight, he reverted to his old ways without thinking.

"How could I have humbled myself in such a way? And for what? To have myself spurned in front of the servants? Had she no idea of the _honor_ being done her? I should never have made that bargain. I should have thrown her in the dungeon with her father, were it not for my own foolish weakness." He sighed, and slowly the sparks ceased at last. After a moment or two of glancing about the room rather helplessly, he glided over to Nightingale, taking the _katana_ down from it place on the wall. The rose at the haft looked more faded and forlorn than ever. The Beast turned the blade over, to the side that was still mirror-bright and unmarked by etched thorns, and examined his own hideous, scarlet-scaled countenance reflected back.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, he thought about the girl. She'd awakened such a strange mix of emotions in him: he had never felt so angry as he had when standing outside her door. But why? What was so inherently terrible about refusing to eat with him? Was it because she had done so in front of three of his servants, who owed him unquestioning allegiance?

In his heart of hearts, he had to admit to himself the true reason: her outright rejection of his hospitality had wounded him deeply. And most confusing of all his feelings at the moment, he also had to admit that in spite of every instinct and action to the contrary, he liked her. Just the tiniest fraction! Not only because she had the ability to break his curse, which at the moment looked doubtful, but there was something about her spirit in facing him down at every turn that he found fascinating. It made her avoidance of him all the more frustrating.

Opening his eyes, he breathed a fine mist over the unmarked side of his _katana_. He'd discovered this aspect of Nightingale's enchantment purely by accident not long after the transformation, but it had proved to be quite useful occasionally. "I wish to see the girl," he commanded the blade.

Immediately, the beaded mist on the sword's cold steel vanished, and he saw reflected an image of the room he had given his guest. She was seated on the European-style bed, knees drawn tight to her chest. He could see that she was still angry by the stiffness of her posture.

Mitsuko-san and her son were in the room as well. "Why not go to supper and give second chance?" Mitsuko-san was saying in her polite, kindly way. Her friendly voice always sounded odd coming from her grotesque figure, even as soft and echoic as the quality was coming from somewhere inside the sword. "May find that he is not what he appears," she added.

The girl, however, was not to be placated. "'Second chance?'" she repeated coldly. "How many chances does he deserve? I've lost everything that was important to me today because of his cruelty: my only family, my hopes of ever returning home to Brussels, my _freedom_! Are those things to be put so lightly aside that I must give up even more simply for the pleasure of dining with my enemy? No, I shall be content if I never set eyes on him again!"

Each bitter word of his captive's was like a knife shoved between the Beast's ribs. Clenching his teeth, he made himself look away from the scene and replace Nightingale on the wall. He traced the fading rose again with a claw.

"I am truly without hope," he said aloud, his voice so low that it was barely audible, even in the silent room, "I shall never be anything to her than the creature who took her away from her father. I'll never be free. And how much longer can I live with the torment of a hope I was never meant to have?" Despite the darkness, the Beast slid from his suite to take a solitary walk in the gardens.

_Author's note: I decided to take a leap of faith and introduce Dai, who is the relative equivalent of Chip, and make the latest confrontation between Belle and the Beast from his POV. It also gave me the chance to introduce some of the servants, who may or may not be as important as they are in the movie. I haven't decided how much of their perspective I want to add. However, for all you Chip fans out there, Dai at least will definitely figure into the story later!_

_Cheers,_

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	11. Curiosity

**Chapter 10**

_Disclaimer: Disney owns. The rest is just details._

_The next morning_

The first thing Belle noticed when she woke up was the bright sunlight streaming through the slits in the curtains of her bedroom window. The second thing was the intense pangs in her stomach, reminding her forcefully that she'd had nothing to eat or drink for at least 36 hours. She felt weak, dizzy, and faint. Though her eyes were open, she simply didn't have the energy to move any farther towards wakefulness. She clenched her teeth, willing the pains to go away.

_I made my decision,_ she thought, unhappily recalling the events of the previous evening. _The Beast told me I wouldn't eat unless I ate with him. I still refuse to eat with that creature. I'll just starve, locked away in this prison of a room. That would serve him right._ She tried to remind her irritated stomach of her convictions, but it refused to listen. Instead, it let loose an angry growl that was so forceful it almost echoed around the room. Belle winced, and sat up slowly. She was still in her old clothes, which were dirty and torn from fighting the forest to reach her father the previous day. She'd removed her stockings and cape, draping them over the end of the bed, and her shoes were still at the _oshiro_ front entrance. Belle could not remember if she'd ever begun a day in worse shape.

A light, hesitant tap on the door startled her. Belle slowly made her way to the door and opened it, blinking at what was on the threshold. Two of the _onii_ servants waited there, one the small, bluish single-armed one who had been the unfortunate announcer of dinner the night before, the other a larger yellow creature with a button nose that turned up sharply, giving him an almost porcine appearance, and only one eye. Though it was hard to read their knobbly faces, both of them seemed simultaneously nervous and guilty. They both wobbled back a pace or two when Belle opened the door.

"_O'hayo gozaimasu_," Belle greeted them in Nipponese, puzzled.

"_O'hayo gozaimasu_," they both said in unison with deep bows. The small blue one gave an odd hop-skip forwards at the prodding of his friend. "Bringing morning greetings from servants," he declared in his halting Dutch, "May come in?"

"Certainly," Belle said, holding the door open so that the pair might enter. They kept their backs to her as they sidled into the room. Belle closed the door and waited. Both demons looked at one another, and then back at Belle.

"Also bring gift," the blue one admitted after a moment. From behind his back he brought a small bowl full of white rice and a pair of chopsticks. The other brought a delicate cup of green tea.

Belle's heart warmed at the sight. Clearly there was some decency left in this desolate castle! "Oh, thank you! _Domo arigato gozaimasu_!" She sat on the bed, and the servants placed the rice bowl in her lap and the tea on her bedside table. Belle drank the bitter tea in two gulps. Though it was lukewarm, she felt better just for having something on her stomach. Then she regarded the rice, and realized that she had no idea how to eat with the narrow sticks they'd given her.

"Does…does your master know that you brought this?" she ventured after a moment. The blue one shook his head vigorously, looking frightened at the thought. "What about the other servants?"

"Few." The blue _onii_, whose name Belle remembered as Dai, shuddered.

Belle realized the courage it must have taken for the pair to defy their Master's direct command. It was no good asking for a spoon or fork or they might be caught. Likely they wouldn't know what one was anyway. "How…how does one…eat with these?" she asked, indicating the chopsticks.

Both servants looked utterly astounded. "Do not know?" asked the Dai. Belle shook her head. Timidly, the _onii_ hopped forward and arranged her hands around the twin sticks, then demonstrated with motions how to pinch the food and bring it to the mouth. Belle tried it. The rice fell back into the bowl. Traces of amusement began to appear on the _onii_'s faces as they watched her. Belle tried again. And again. After at least ten tries, she managed to get a mouthful. Both servants broke into broad grins.

"Good," was the blue one's only comment. The pair watched her poor attempts at eating for another few minutes, clearly unwilling to leave their exotic guest. At length, the yellow one said something in Nipponese to the Dai, who translated carefully. "He say…you very brave."

"Not really. Just hungry at the moment," Belle said with a chuckle, "But thank him anyway."

The blue _onii_ did so, then translated the reply. "He say, brave. Heard what happen in dungeon last night."

"He did?" Belle blushed. "That was not bravery. That was me trying to save my father from a terrible end. Anyone with a scrap of family loyalty would have done the same."

"Setsuko-san," Dai gestured to his yellow companion, "had lamp. Heard everything. Said speak very loud, very bold to Master."

"Wait a minute. It was _him_ with the lamp? He led me to the dungeon?"

Dai translated her words for the yellow _onii_, who then nodded vigorously and pointed to himself. Belle smiled. "Thank you. _Arigato_." Setsuko smiled even more broadly and bowed. Then he said something else to the blue _onii_, who thought for a moment before translating.

"Setsuko say, two night ago, your father was in forest. Garden-_onii_ hear fight and in-in-investigate. Is right? In-ve-sti-gate?" At Belle's nod, he continued, "They rescue father from men. Bring him here to _oshiro_. Thought they could keep from Master, but find out. Send their sorry."

"Oh." Belle tried to put together the muddled picture she had gotten from this. Apparently a group of _onii_ who tended the gardens had rescued her father from his captors. That was why the men had looked so frightened when Koru had seen them come out of the forest. They had been terrified of the _onii_ from the haunted _oshiro_.

"Please, thank them for me," Belle told the pair, "They did their best. It's not their fault their Master is such a brute."

Both _onii_ jumped back at this. "Ah! Must not say such things! Master is always listening!" Dai cried.

Belle thought this reaction a little paranoid, but she did not say so. She did not want these two brave souls to get into any more trouble on her account. So she held out her empty rice bowl and teacup. "Here. You can take these now. And thank you again!"

Both bowed low as they accepted. "_Do' itashimashite!_" Then they scurried from the room.

Belle sighed and lay back on the bed, her stomach temporarily full and leaving her free to think about other things. But what to do now? On an impulse, she stood up and pulled on her stockings. She would go and find the kitchen, and perhaps discover a new method of smuggling food. Even if Dai and Setsuko continued to secretly bring her rations, that could not last long. They would inevitably be caught. Perhaps she could forestall that by coming up with some other way that did not involve the servants at all. Opening the door, Belle peered up and down the corridor. To her intense relief, there was no one there. Quiet as a mouse in her stocking feet, Belle slipped out of her room and started off.

Though she did her best to keep track of the various rooms and hallways she passed, Belle was soon lost in the maze of the _oshiro_ again. _It must take a hundred years to figure out how to get anywhere in here!_ she though with awe, but this gave way to a more unsettling notion: _Just how long have they been here, anyway? The Beast, and his demon servants too? Am I the first human ever to set eye on these corridors?_

One thing that Belle discovered while exploring the _oshiro _in daylight was that the frightening figures she had dimly seen in the lamplight were merely carvings and paintings of Nipponese deities done in a bold, simple style with brilliant colors. She was particularly fascinated by the depictions of dragons, some of which stretched the length of entire corridors. They looked very much like the Beast, long and snakelike with stubby legs and no wings, but with one noticeable difference. Their faces were not reptilian and pointed, but much more blunt, like the face of a dog. Belle paused to trace a smaller one with a finger. What other secrets lay hidden inside this castle?

At last, Belle thought she smelled something cooking. Following her nose, she rounded a corner and was met with a sharp squeal from the floorboards. Yanking her foot back, she stared. Everywhere else she had wandered the floors had been well-polished and completely silent. Putting her foot down, she pressed lightly. Again, the boards squeaked loudly, reminding her of the shrill whistle of a bird.

_Of course!_ She remembered the Beast's words from the night before: _"If ever you encounter a floor that sings like a nightingale…know that you are not permitted to cross it."_

Belle took a deep breath, inhaling the savory aroma of soup. It was certainly coming from the noisy corridor. Did the Beast mean to keep her away from the kitchen? He had forbidden her to cross the floor before the fiasco about supper the night before, but perhaps he simply didn't want her disturbing the servants. Well, it couldn't hurt to investigate. Belle took a deep breath and set her foot firmly on the board, drawing out yet another protesting cry. Telling herself she wasn't doing anything wrong but feeling a bit guilty for her curiosity all the same, she slowly made her way across the singing floor.

There was a heavy set of double doors at the far end, which were closed tight. Belle listened a moment but could hear nothing beyond them. Likely this wasn't the kitchen; it would be full of the clatter of pots and pans and the voices of servants. Still, she'd come this far, and she'd always wonder if she didn't look now. With a slight effort Belle pulled open one of the double doors and peered inside.

It wasn't at all what she'd been expecting. Fabulous jewels, perhaps, or something as astounding. Instead, this room looked as if it had once been a beautiful sitting room and study but had been torn apart by a raging firestorm. The walls were charred black in places; most of the furniture lay in broken pieces on the floor. Belle mentally shrugged and prepared to depart, wondering why the Beast had wanted to keep this gutted place such a secret, when her eye caught a glitter of polished metal on one wall. With a gasp of admiration she stepped into the room almost involuntarily, for hanging on the right side of the room was a magnificent samurai sword.

Glancing this way and that to make absolutely certain that there was no one about, Belle crossed the room on light feet. She passed a low table, one of the few undestroyed pieces of furniture left, and noticed that there was a large bowl of some clear soup set upon it. So this was what she had smelled. Feeling the side of the bowl with one finger, she discovered it was room temperature. Someone had been in the room recently enough to leave the soup, but not recently enough to notice that it had been left uneaten. It boded well for leaving the room undetected with no one the wiser of her investigations.

Turning back to the sword, Belle forgot all about the soup. A few more steps brought her to stand directly in front of it. There it hung, naked of a scabbard or any sort of covering to protect it from the room's dust, soot, and mold. Belle knew very little about swords of any type, but even she could tell that this one was exceptionally fine, a far better caliber than the sword that Getsuru was so proud of. Like all Nipponese swords she had seen, it was slightly curved, and its hilt was wrapped in dark braid that left a lighter diamond pattern exposed. The outward-facing side of the blade was intricately etched with a riotous array of thorny vines without a single flower. No, that wasn't right. A hint of red showed near the hilt: a wilting rose. It alone of everything about the sword looked as if it had been there for years and not as if it had been forged the day before; the crimson dye had faded noticeably against the stark black vines. Curious about this difference, Belle reached out with a gentle finger to trace that lonely rose when she felt a puff of hot air on the back of her neck. She spun around, startled, and put a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream.

The Beast stood behind her, the tip of his nose inches from hers, lips curved back in a terrible snarl that exposed every one of his pointed ivory teeth.

_Author's Note: Cue Phantom of the Opera organ run! (You know the one I mean, it plays every time the Phantom appears). My silliness aside, I have a few notes about this chapter. First, language: o'hayo gozaimasu means good morning and domo arigato gozaimasu means thank you very much. Second: I really wanted to put a 'Be Our Guest' sort of sequence in this chapter because it's one of my favorites from the Broadway musical, but it just doesn't seem to fit. So apologies all around for that._

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	12. Fight or Flight Instinct

**Chapter 11**

_Disclaimer: Plot, characters, whatever their copyright claims, belongs to Disney. Everything else belongs to me._

Human girl and dragon-man stared at one another for a full 10 seconds before either of them moved so much as a muscle. In that time, the Beast's mind slowly sank into blinding rage: _What is she doing here? After I specifically ordered her not to come in here!_ And another question, more embarrassing: _Why didn't I hear her on the nightingale floor? I was in the next room!_

"Did I not warn you _never_ to cross the floor that sang?" he rumbled, his voice low and dangerous.

"I…I thought…" The girl paused to swallow visibly. Her voice trembling, she continued, "this might be the—the kitchens."

This pronouncement, of course, did not improve the Beast's mood. "So not only did you go where you were specifically warned never to enter, you were seeking to disobey my commands about eating."

At this, the girl's huge eyes flashed a blazing emerald green. Though still plainly terrified, her temper gave her the courage to snap, "I won't deny that I was hungry, and neither will I apologize for it."

"_What!_" the Beast practically spat. He could feel the hot fire-sparks gathering in his throat with every passing second. "How _dare_ you, you impudent—"

"How dare _you_." Her chin was coming up in defiance, though tears were beginning to run unheeded down her cheeks. "You think because you command this castle and everyone in it you can order things to be just as you like. After everything you took away from me yesterday, did you expect me to just put aside my emotions and sit quietly down to dinner across the table because you told me I had no choice? Because you _ordered_ it? I suppose next you'll tell me I can only be hungry if you say so!"

"Tha…that's…"he struggled to find the Dutch words through his mind-numbing fury. "That's _ri--ridiculous_!"

"Is it? I don't think so. It never even occurred to you that I might refuse!" Her burning eyes met his through a veil of tears.

"_Get. Out._" His words were a poisonous hiss, his mouth glowing with pent-up flame. "_Now._"

Deliberately, she stalked around him. She turned back at the open double doors leading to the nightingale floored-hall. "I'm going. Bargain or not, I _refuse_ to stay in this empty prison of yours any longer!"

With a feral roar he started towards her, flames leaping from his mouth. The whites showed all around her eyes, and she gave a true scream of terror. Within seconds she was gone, fleeing for her life down the corridor with the hem of her torn blue skirt darkened on the back edge.

The Beast sat back, his fury cooling now that the object of his anger was gone. _Gone!_ his mind interjected suddenly. _Where did she think to go?_ And then he realized. _She thought you meant leave the oshiro. She'll run to Nagasaki, certainly. Back to her father. How will she get to the Dutch quarter? Almost certainly she doesn't know the way out of the forest, let alone the town. And more than likely she'll run into trouble on the way there, trouble she can't escape from._

_Not your problem anymore,_ the logical part of his mind argued. _You wanted her gone; it was likely she wouldn't have broken your curse. She had every justifiable reason to hate you. Now she _is_ gone. You won't have to worry about human intrusion again, especially not if her story ever gets out._

_But she doesn't know the way back. And that is almost a guarantee that she will get hurt, _said his less sensible side, the side that still liked the impudent, infuriating girl despite everything.

_She wouldn't want you to rescue her. She never wants to lay eyes on you again._

_You must._

_But—_

_You _must.

Somehow Belle found her way out of the haunted _oshiro_ with no trouble. It was as if the castle had sensed her intent and realigned itself so that she could run straight out the main entrance with a minimum of wrong turns. In her distressed and upset state, she barely noticed. Out the heavy main doors she fled, tears still streaming freely down her face in fright and fury. Across the sandy courtyard and through the portcullis-gate. She didn't stop to consider that it was wide open. She didn't even realize until she stepped on her first thorn that she'd forgotten her shoes. She certainly couldn't go back to fetch them, but their lack slowed her down considerably as she waded through the dense underbrush. Belle began to pant and her legs began to burn. Still she did not slow her pace until she staggered into a familiar clearing.

The clearing where the foreigner-hating Nipponese had dragged her father. Blinded by the sudden change from dim forest to midday sunlight, Belle realized far too late that she was not alone. A group of five men were gathered around a small campfire. It was only due to good fortune and the surprise of her sudden appearance out of the forest that Belle was not already dead. And she had left her concealing cloak at the _oshiro_.

The men leapt to their feet as Belle turned to plunge back into the forest. Before she could take more than two steps she was seized, none too gently, and dragged into the center of the clearing. While two of them held her arms firmly all five engaged in a rapid discussion in Nipponese, which Belle guessed was about what to do with her. She struggled fiercely, but she was weak with lack of nourishment and exhaustion and the men were terribly strong.

The debate ended with an almost predatory laugh from all the men. The three not gripping Belle's arms went to the pile of weapons. Two gathered up wicked-looking knives, tossing extras to their companions. The remaining man, who was exceptionally tall for a Nipponese, took up something that Belle at first took to be a long iron poker. It was only when he plunged the tip into the campfire did her dazed brain realize its true purpose: it was a brand. They meant to torture her first, before they got around to using those knives.

The metal poker began to turn cherry-red. With a hideous smirk twisting his features, the man holding the brand removed it from the flames and started walking deliberately towards her. Belle could smell the hot iron's tang the closer he got. She shrieked as loudly as she could, struggling and twisting like a mad thing, but the men's grip remained firm. She could not escape.

Working up as much saliva as she could summon despite her lack of nourishment in the previous days, Belle spat in the man's eye as he bent towards her. It wasn't much in the way of defiance, but it was enough to make him drop the brand. Angrily cursing in Nipponese and stamping out the sparking leaves, he went back to the fire and thrust the brand deep into the coals. Within moments he was back. He held up the smoking metal rod and glared at her with the orange-red metal between them like a deadly promise. Belle resigned herself to the inevitable, her knees turning to jelly. She sagged in her captors' hands as the iron drew ever closer to her skin.

Without warning, a low growl echoed through the woods like distant thunder. The clearing grew silent as every living thing in the vicinity stiffened and went deadly still. Though clearly frightened, the men brandished their knives and yelled loudly in Nipponese. There was no response except a slight rustle of leaves, which made the men even more nervous.

A snarl from the left! A flash of scarlet! The men holding Belle abruptly let her go, dumping her unceremoniously on the ground. She was so weak with shock and fatigue it was all she could do to remain upright and watch the strange scene unfolding before her.

The five men were looking frantically in all directions, shouting to one another as they tried to determine the nature of their attacker, or attackers. Two of them ventured into the underbrush; seconds later a pair of high-pitched screams--the screams of the dying--split the air. This frightened two of the remaining three so badly that they lost their heads and tried to flee. More screams followed, farther away. The remaining man, the big ringleader, picked up a curved, silvery knife in addition to the still-hot brand he carried. With a woodsman's ease he slid into the brush, leaving Belle alone in the clearing. Scarcely daring to breathe, she listened. For almost a minute nothing happened. And then a pain-filled roar followed immediately by another scream rent the air, making her jump. She waited for several nerve-wracked minutes, but the forest had fallen deathly silent again.

At last, Belle managed to force her quaking knees lift and carry her. Cautiously she made her way out of the clearing, in the direction of the final set of noises. Coming around a massive tree, she leaped back in shock and horror.

Sprawled at the base of the tree, which evidently he'd leaped around to surprise his attacker, lay the brand-wielding ringleader of the gang. He was clearly dead, blood drying in a dark pool around his slit throat. Beside him, panting heavily, also bleeding, lay a large, scarlet-scaled figure she recognized immediately. The Beast.

Belle had no idea what she had been expecting to see, but the discovery that her nemesis, her cruel captor, was now her unseen savior hit Belle right in the pit of her stomach. Gulping back the bile rising to her mouth, she made her way around the man's dead body to the Beast's side. Gently, she asked, "Are you all right?"

It was a foolish, useless question, she knew, but she was spared the embarrassment of it as the Beast fainted dead away before her. Examining him closely, she found a deep gash in his left front shoulder where the man had surprised him with his knife before meeting his own death at the Beast's claws. Though she knew nothing about binding up a dragon's wounds, Belle immediately removed her apron and tore it into strips, wondering as she did exactly what she thought she was doing. She should be running away as fast as she could towards Nagasaki. But something in her balked at leaving the Beast in the forest, alone and badly wounded.

Tying up her rags so that they would cover the Beast's wound adequately proved to be quite tricky due to his snakelike shape, but she managed in the end. Many times Belle wished for her mother's herbs, such as she had used on Koru, but it was no use wanting the impossible. By the time she'd finished, a few streaks of late afternoon sun were drifting down through the forest canopy. Though there was little danger of him dying now that she had gotten the bleeding stopped, Belle still did not leave the Beast's side. It just didn't feel right, despite the fact that there had never been a more opportune time to escape. So Belle waited. And waited, and waited. The sun faded away slowly and an eerie twilight fell, followed by a night as black as pitch. She jumped and twitched at strange noises for a long time, but at last she fell into an uneasy sleep, the unconscious Beast warm as a banked fire beside her.

_Author's note: As always, thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far._

_Cheers,_

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	13. By the Fire

**Chapter 12**

_Disclaimer: Disney owns many aspects of this story, blah, blah, blah… You get the idea._

_The Next Morning_

It was just barely dawn when the _onii_ search party from the_ oshiro_ finally found the sleeping pair in the forest. Dai told Belle later that their rescuers had feared that both she and their master were dead when they saw all the blood, but when Belle roused at the sound of their voices they were reassured. Several of them returned to the _oshiro_ for assistance and a cart, and with Belle's help they managed to convey their unconscious master home. Belle followed behind the cart, her mind fixed on plans to somehow make the _onii_ understand which herbs she would need.

With the assistance of Dai and Mitsuko she managed to procure the herbs and a teapot of water. The Beast was situated on a ring of cushions around the central fire of one of the smaller rooms. Belle smiled when she saw that he reached all the way around the firepit with only one floor cushion to spare between his snout and the flame-shaped tip of his tail. It was on this cushion that she was kneeling, carefully dropping herbs into the teapot, when his eyes fluttered briefly.

"_O'kasan_?" he murmured in his growling voice, so low that Belle almost mistook the word for a moan.

She looked at Mitsuko, who was standing in the doorway awaiting any orders she might give. "Mitsuko-san, what does _o'kasan_ mean in your language?"

The _onii_'s face twisted oddly, her expression impossible to read in her grotesque face. "Means 'mother', Beru-san. Why ask?"

"Never mind." Belle turned back to the Beast, studying his inert, reptilian face. Something in her softened ever so slightly towards him, to hear him mention a mother. It was so…human. Shaking her head to clear it for the task at hand, Belle forced herself to look away and back towards the steaming tea kettle.

The herbs were nearly ready by the time the Beast's fire-colored eyes opened again. This time the glassy haze lifted slightly from them and he focused on her face.

"What…happened? Where…am…I?" he gasped out weakly.

"We are back at your _oshiro_. You managed to catch the sharp end of a knife during your daring rescue. You've been unconscious since yesterday afternoon," Belle informed him briskly, wringing out a soft towel wet with her herbal steep.

"And how—ehhhhhh!" The Beast had shifted slightly on his curved bedding and discovered the pain in his shoulder.

"Don't move! That will make it worse." Belle said quickly. "Here, let me put this on your wound."

Unlike Koru, the Beast did not willingly submit to her care. "It hurts. Don't touch it," he warned her, a hint of a snarl in his voice.

It was all Belle could do not to roll her eyes heavenward. "Of course it hurts. That's what this is for." She indicated her soaked towel. "It will make it feel better, I promise. My mother taught me about herbs for wounds."

"I would prefer you did not, if it's all the same to you. I have been cut before. It will heal on its own." Using the claws in his good limbs, the Beast dragged himself away from her.

Belle easily followed him. "Don't be ridiculous. This will make it heal faster." She had him backed into a corner. Kneeling swiftly, she reached past his bared jaws and placed her compress firmly on his shoulder.

The ensuing roar and blast of fire forced her to scramble backwards and singed her skirt anew. Brushing ashes off her lap, Belle sat up, eyes sparkling angrily. "Touchy! I was only trying to help!"

"I told you not to!"

"Very well!" Belle spun on her knees and stood to stalk out of the room. "Suffer longer and risk wound-rot, then! I wash my hands of you!"

She was at the open sliding panel when a sulky voice came from behind her. "Wait."

Belle turned back. The Beast had leaned forward, as well as he was able. His fiery eyes searched hers. "My…my apologies." He sounded truly sincere, and so pathetic that Belle started back towards him without a thought. "I…I have a temper," he growled, settling back to the floor.

"Then you should learn to control it better." She bent over the kettle and wet a new rag.

"As you have?"

Belle glanced at him, startled. Was the light in his eyes…brighter? Just the slightest bit? Had he just made a—a _joke_?

"Very well, I have my flaws," she admitted with a gusty sigh. "I suppose it's easier to see someone else's faults and try to correct them than your own. At least I acknowledge that I have them."

"I suppose." His gravelly voice sounded thoughtful. Belle knelt beside him, her nerves still slightly on edge with the memory of her previous try. This time, he fought to keep still as she swabbed at the knife's slash.

"There now," she said, sitting back when she had finished binding the wound up again with clean cotton bandages provided by the servants. "That wasn't so terrible, was it?"

"Thank you." His voice was low.

Belle looked at him in surprise. "I should be thanking you. No, closer to groveling. You saved my life, back there in the clearing. I thought I was going to die a slow, painful death at the hands of a very angry group of _gaijin_-haters."

He studied her carefully. "Please, do not grovel. Neither of us would find it at all enjoyable. And as to debts, we owe one another nothing."

"What? Why not?"

"You could have left me to die there in the forest," he pointed out, "Instead, you bound my wounds and stayed beside me all night until my servants arrived. And just now, you used your herbs to help me. You did not have to do any of those things. It was an unexpected courtesy for one such as I."

Belle found herself blushing. "I…"

"So let us speak no more of debts, or what is past. Shall we agree to a fresh beginning?"

"Very well." Belle nodded, but then thought of something. "I don't even know your name. What should I call you?"

He looked at the ceiling thoughtfully, and a little sadly, it seemed to Belle. "You may simply call me the Beast, if you wish," he said at last. Then he turned and studied her. "I must apologize, but I also do not recall your name."

"We were never…properly introduced. My name is Belle."

"Beru-san." His head tilted quizzically at her reaction to this. "I see that you do not enjoy being called that."

Belle blinked, startled at his perception of human facial expression. "You're right. It reminds me of…" She saw again Getsuru's arrogant grin before her eyes as he tried to drag her out of the Dutch quarter. "…someone I'd prefer to forget," she finished slowly.

"I see. Does your name mean anything, in your home language? I have never heard another like it."

"My parents are…were…both French." She stuttered slightly at the thought of them. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, and continued, "They named me Belle. Beautiful, is what it means."

"Fitting." Belle blushed again, twisting her skirt in her hands a bit as his fire-colored eyes bored into her. "I believe I will call you Kirei-san," he pronounced at last, "It also means beautiful, in the language of the Land of the Sun."

"Land of the Sun?"

"That is what we call our country of Nippon, for we believe that our Emperor is a descendant of the Sun Goddess," he explained.

"Oh." Belle thought about this. "There's so much I don't know, about your language and your country. I came here hoping to see exotic things, learn a new tongue, but the Dutch quarter is so…so Western. It was as if we were living in a tiny European town all over again, except a thousand times worse because we could never leave. We were never permitted to see the rest of the country for fear we would taint it with our 'barbarian' ways."

He shifted slightly. "Then perhaps…we can undertake to learn from one another. For I have long been fascinated with the world of the Westernmen. Their ideas, their teachings. Their way of life. If it is agreeable to you, I will teach you the Nipponese ways and language if you will promise to reciprocate with your own Western ways. Have we a bargain?"

"Oh, yes! Thank you!" Belle could not help smiling, the first time she had ever done so in his presence. But his eyes had already drifted peacefully closed.


	14. And Almost Kind

**Chapter 13  
**

_Disclaimer: Not much to say at this point except that Disney rules for creating this story._

Belle would not have believed how quickly the next few weeks passed. She lived with near-constant worry about her father and Koru, and whether they had safely reached the Dutch quarter. The ache of losing her father did not lessen, so she filled her days with activity in vain efforts to avoid it.

The mornings were devoted to Belle's instruction of the Beast in Western ways. She would not have expected how well-informed he was about the West, and she quickly discovered that he read Dutch far better than Belle did herself. There was little she could teach him in that quarter. He was, however, fascinated with the French language, and Belle undertook to teach him the basics. His accent was so heavily Nipponese that he could barely pronounce the rolled French "r", but he did his best. Belle also began to teach him European table manners, and once she found the kitchen she occasionally directed the preparation of a Western meal as she had in her own house in Brussels after her mother's death.

The afternoons were far more arduous for her. At those times, she struggled not only to master the Nipponese tongue, which could not have been more different from her native French, but she also strained to cram bows, gestures, and other nuances of the Nipponese culture into her brain. She often felt that her skull was about to pop open with all the new information she was absorbing. The part of the day she looked forward to the most was in the evenings, after supper. Then she would take up a _daito _dagger that she had selected from one of the rooms filled with unused weapons and the Beast would drill her in its basics.

"Females are ordinarily not instructed in such things," he had said when she had timidly brought up her wish to learn, "But these are not ordinary circumstances, and you are no ordinary female." Belle's pulse had raced inexplicably at this, but she had written it off as excitement at these new lessons.

Over and over she repeated the basic drills until she felt as if she were going to collapse. Each night she fell into bed exhausted, but looking forward to the progress both she and her pupil were making in their lessons. Such thoughts helped her stave off the nightmares of her father in pain, or in prison, or simply wasting away from the grief of losing her.

Nearly two weeks after his rescue of Belle the Beast was finally recovered enough from his wounds to show her about the _oshiro_. They continued to speak in Dutch to one another as they turned corners and peered into dusty rooms, but their talk was slowly becoming punctuated with occasional French and Nipponese. Belle still did not think she could find her way about the castle reliably, but she could perhaps manage to get lost only half as much.

They passed the nightingale corridor by, and Belle was careful not even to so much as glance down it. The pair paused outside the next, and final, corridor. One entire wall was covered by the sliding panels that the Beast had told her was typical of Nipponese interior design.

"Kirei-san," the Beast said, and Belle thought she heard hesitancy in his voice.

"_Qu'est qu'un problème?_" she asked in French, making him show his ivory teeth briefly in a dragon version of a smile.

"No problem, Kirei-san. You will think this request odd, but…is it possible for you to…shut your eyes?"

"Shut my eyes?" Belle wrinkled her brow in puzzlement. "Why? Is there something wrong with this next room, that you don't want me to see it?"

"No!" His voice was short and sharp, but there was the thunder-rumble in it that Belle had learned served her scarlet companion for amusement. "No, there is nothing wrong with this room. Just trust me, and close your eyes."

Belle did not ask any more questions, though her better judgment still said that to trust the dangerous-looking dragon with anything was a mistake. But after two weeks' acquaintance, Belle had come to believe that he truly meant her no harm, and that he suffered from loneliness at least as much as she did. She closed her eyes.

Lightly she felt his smooth scales beneath her fingers, guiding her forward. He was warm to her touch, not cool or slimy as other reptiles were. She heard the gentle hiss of the sliding panels being pushed back, and the corridor lightened considerably. Whatever room they were now entering had windows that let in the afternoon sunlight. The wooden floor under her feet did not feel any different than that of the corridor. The Beast's scales slid out from under her hands. She waited patiently for a moment or two, and could sense from the direction of his body warmth that he had moved to stand beside her. At last, he said, as if he were trying to hold in laughter, "You may look now."

Belle opened her eyes, and was completely astounded. The room was as long as the corridor beside it, and every inch that was not window was filled with bookshelves. Most of the shelves were full of stacks of delicate rice paper, tied neatly up in individual folds. But the shelves directly before her held European-style books, bound in leather. Many covers were beautifully embossed. Mouth open in wonder, Belle reached forward, took one off the shelf, and leafed through it. "But this is in French! How did—I mean, why is this here?"

"You will find most of these _gaijin_ books are in Dutch, but there are French and a few German among them as well," the Beast told her, the rumble of amusement stronger in his voice. Hearing this, Belle dove in amongst the smooth covers, nearly weeping with delight to have her dear friends with her again. She barely noticed that the Beast had neatly avoiding answering her question as to how he had acquired such a collection of European books.

Belle's hand paused over one of the French books. As she pulled it from the shelf, a few true tears did fall. She curled up at the foot of the shelf, the book clutched to her chest, eyes squeezed shut.

"Kirei-san! What is wrong?" The Beast's voice spoke from far away, sounding deeply concerned. When Belle did not answer, she felt him bring his face closer to her shoulder by the warm and gentle breeze of his breath that brushed her hair. "Kirei-san, what is troubling you? I thought you would enjoy my library, but…" He trailed away uncertainly.

"Oh, no! It isn't that!" Belle's eyes flew open, to find the Beast's fire-colored ones, crinkled anxiously among scaly folds, were inches from her face. "I _love_ your library. It's wonderful. It is just, seeing this book again…" She took a deep breath to hold in her sobs.

Gently he eased the book from her embrace. "Le Morte d'Arthur," he read haltingly, stumbling over the French pronunciation. Ordinarily such an attempt would have brought a smile to Belle's face, but this time she was too lost in memory.

"It was her favorite," she murmured dully, staring straight ahead, eyes seeing the past.

"Your mother's?"

She nodded. She had told him a few days earlier about the loss that still plagued her heart. "We used to read together," Belle whispered, "We read that one so many times I lost count. I think she had it memorized, beginning to end. And then, when she died…it hurt even to look at that book. I would always think of never hearing her voice again in this life…"

"I am truly sorry for your loss, Kirei-san."

Belle reached out without thinking and gently stroked the tiny smooth scales of his eyebrow ridge. "But it hurt even worse when we had to sell that book. We had to sell all of our books in order to pay passage to Nippon," she explained at the question in his slit-pupiled eyes. "Giving up her favorite stories, it was almost as bad as losing her once again. And now, to see it here, so far from home…it was too much."

"I understand." They were silent together for a few minutes. Belle watched the sun creep slowly across the dusty floor without really seeing it, her mind still on her mother's face. At length, the Beast stirred beside her. "But how best to remedy this still-fresh sorrow? Would it be better to put this book where you cannot see, and thus spare you the pain of your memories? Or perhaps we could brush off the dust and read it together as you used to do? I will improve in my _furan-seisu_," Belle managed a watery smile over his valiant effort to pronounce the word '_français'_, "and you shall perhaps revisit pleasanter times with your mother."

Belle reached out a shaking hand and took the book from him, reverently. "I'd like that very much."

Thus began their ritual of reading French novels aloud for half an hour before lunch, beginning with 'Le Morte d'Arthur' and finding new favorites on the shelves. The Beast had been right on two counts: his French improved rapidly with the extra practice, and she discovered that the painful memories of her mother slowly became less painful as she remembered the good times they had once shared. And she was very grateful to the Beast for the slight lessening of the ache around her heart.

Not all of Belle's encounters with him were so benign. Tempers still flared occasionally, the reasons various and mostly minor, but usually both of them would rapidly miss the other's company and within hours they would be tentatively laughing together about whatever had caused the dispute. Once, Belle was so annoyed with him that she rigged a trap similar to the one she had set for Getsuru her last night in the Dutch quarter. It had not taken her long to discover how he 'secretly' made his way around the _oshiro_: she'd watched him climb a wall to reach the ceiling beams one evening not too long after he showed her the library. In keeping, she simply placed a bucket of water and a trip-rope in the rafters near her corridor. Though he had been annoyed with her for several days afterwards, it had been worth it to see the look on his reptilian face when he was doused in water and realized she had figured out his secret. The next time they argued Belle found herself doused in a bath of mud as she exited her room. Her shriek of shock and fury was echoed with a throaty chuckle fading down the corridor.

And so the autumn and winter months passed on relatively peacefully in the _oshiro_, until the Beast suggested a special evening to celebrate the first day of spring. Belle had been living in the _oshiro_ for nearly seven months. She had put on a fine celebration for Yuletide complete with all the traditions she cherished, and the Beast had reciprocated with a New Year's celebration the likes of which the _onii_ servants told Belle they had never before seen. But this spring celebration would be different; it was to be a marking of the progress both of them had made in their studies of one another's cultures and would encompass aspects of both.

_Author's note: This is a warm fuzzy chapter before the 'ballroom' scene and its aftermath. I have often wondered how Belle and the Beast got to know one another enough to fall in love in the fairly short time the movie gives them, so I've taken the liberty of extending the time frame quite a bit so that they have time to form a really lasting friendship and emotional connection. Now, fasten your seatbelts and adjust your crash helmets! The real fireworks are about to begin…_

_Jya matashita,_

_SamoaPhoenix9_

_**Marissa and Mordred**--Apologies to you both for using _Le Morte_ in this chapter. I know your secret ambition is to go back in time and assassinate Malory, but indulge me this once._

_**Jarethsdragon**--Domo arigato gozaimasu for all the stuff you sent me about sword construction and the etiquette surrounding them! I wasn't bored at all; Japanese culture fascinates me even though I don't do martial arts or anime. For the sake of the story, I may be forced to bend a few of the rules about others touching Nightingale. Or I may not. Hopefully it won't come to that, but gomen nasai in advance if it does. Your information is absolutely invaluable. Total side note--I do not plan to have Belle commit hara-kiri, but thanks for the info regarding honorable female suicide as well. ;)_


	15. Sakura Blossoms

**Chapter 14**

_Disclaimer: I don't really have permission to rip this story off from Disney, but I did anyway. They own most of it._

_The First Day of Spring_

Belle stood as still as she could manage while trapped in the center of a circle of high stools. Mitsuko was patiently winding layer after layer of cloth around her waist, hopping from stool to stool. Belle already felt as though she couldn't breathe, but when she finally faced the full-length mirror in her room she had to admit the affect was quite stunning, if exotically bizarre to her Western eye.

Where Mitsuko had procured the _kimono_ robe complete with its delicate embroideries, contrasting under-kimonos and _obi _(sash), Belle would never know, but the entire ensemble had fit her perfectly as if by magic. Mitsuko had already spent hours on Belle's hair and makeup alone. Though the _onii_ woman had good-naturedly bemoaned the wavy consistency of Belle's brown hair, she had managed to carefully conceal it beneath a wig of luxurious black Nipponese hair, which was then piled high in an elaborate style and adorned with sparkling ornaments placed, it seemed to Belle, in random positions atop it. Belle's face was painted and powdered white, with eyes lined dark and lips a brilliant crimson. Except for her 'unfortunate' height and the startling green of her eyes, which were emphasized all the more by the pale green silk of her outer kimono, Mitsuko told Belle she looked every inch a Nipponese courtier.

"Now all I have to do is remember everything you've told me over the past few months, and I'll be fine," Belle said to Mitsuko with an anxious sigh. Due to the combination of the Beast's lessons and the near-total linguistic immersion with the servants, Belle now spoke and understood Nipponese almost fluently. Though they sometimes still conversed in Dutch, for the sake of clarity Belle and Mitsuko more often than not spoke Nipponese to one another. In fact, the only time Belle spoke Dutch with any regularity was with Dai, to whom she'd been giving lessons. She and the Beast conversed these days in either French or Nipponese, depending upon the occasion. Tonight in particular, the evening would be carefully divided between East and West. Belle would be performing _sadoh_, the tea ceremony, in one of the outdoor teahouses situated in the _oshiro_ gardens nearest the blooming cherry blossom trees. The Beast would be her only guest. Belle would then perform the traditional Nipponese fan dance that Mitsuko had been coaching her in for several weeks, which was one reason Belle was so on edge. Each step and gesture had to be just so or it would throw the dance off. Belle had yet to do it without mistakes. Once that was completed, both Belle and the Beast would return to their rooms and prepare for a European-style dinner during which they would converse only in French. Belle had planned a surprise for the Beast after supper was over as well, yet another reason she was nervous. And under all of that, another form of nervous energy had taken hold and made it impossible for her to sit still for long, something she could not explain. She had never been one to pace, but alone in her room she walked back and forth, unable to stop herself.

_Why is it so important to me to be perfect tonight?_ she asked herself, a little irritably. _It's only the Beast. I see him everyday. It isn't as if he has to be _impressed_ with me for any reason…_

In another part of the _oshiro_, someone else was having an attack of nerves. The Beast was also pacing, his steps mirroring Belle's as he muttered last-minute instructions to himself in garbled French. He wondered how she was faring but refused to look in Nightingale's reflective side for fear that she might be dressing.

A light tap on the door startled him; once again he had not noticed the nightingale floor's song. He had been wondering since its failure to alert him to Belle's presence if it was possibly breaking down, after the years of neglect and disrepair. "_Hai? Dare ga imasuka?_" he called, but without the active fire of irritation behind the question that his voice had once held at every interruption. He had begun to notice recently that months of acquaintance with the spirited Belle had somehow mellowed his own sharp temper.

Sasaki-san, the evening's master of ceremonies, poked his head nervously around the corner, still recovering somewhat from the shock of _not_ having his head figuratively bitten off. "Master? Beru-san says that she will be ready to receive you in the _sakura_ tea pavilion momentarily. I will escort you there as soon as is convenient for you."

"_Arigato_, Sasaki-san. I am ready now." The Beast followed his _onii_ servant, privately relieved to hear the nightingale floor make its customary noise as they passed over it.

A slender figure was arranging the _sadoh_ utensils in the pavilion as Sasaki-san and the Beast approached. It was far too large to be one of the servants, but the Beast didn't think it was Belle, either. The hair was far too straight, and it was too dark as well. As they drew closer, he saw that the figure's graceful hand motions as it? she? set out the tea things were deft, but with a quickness that easily betrayed nerves. Slightly puzzled as to the figure's identity, the Beast continued to pace forward behind Sasaki-san, his eyes trained on whoever it was. More details became clear: a pale-green _kimono_ traced all over with embroidered cherry blossoms, set off by a pink rose-colored _obi_. _Appropriate for early spring,_ the Beast thought, vaguely remembering the fashions at the Emperor's court.

Sasaki-san discreetly cleared his throat, and the figure looked up. Immediately she smiled, a little uncertainly, and the fading daylight caught her eyes and lit them like sparkling gems. Emerald-green, and wide. Belle's eyes. The Beast drew in his breath sharply, and he realized in that one amazed, stunned, astonished moment that he loved her. Not only because she was beautiful, though he had thought so from their first meeting. And not only because she was arrayed in the achingly familiar garb of the women of his own country. She hardly looked like the Kirei-san he knew beneath the black hair and face paint. Yet it was Kirei-san, the Belle he knew, the person that she was no matter her clothing or hair color or name, the spirited, hot-tempered, kindhearted woman looking at him out of those leaf-green eyes that he loved with every reptilian bone in his body. The Beast stood completely frozen, unable to tear his eyes from hers.

She was the first to look away. Her eyes shifted, looking down self-consciously, and the moment was gone. The Beast blinked rapidly a few times, trying to clear his head for rational conversation.

Belle rose to her feet with a bright, nervous laugh. "Do I look so terrible that you can't do anything but stare?" she complained.

"Forgive me, Kirei-san," he returned, with a smile that was only slightly forced, "I was merely surprised at the final effect of Mitsuko-san's labors. You look wonderful."

"_Arigato gozaimasu_," she answered, with a correct bow for receiving an unearned compliment, "It will mean a lot when I tell her you said so."

_Not quite the way I meant it,_ the Beast thought ruefully. Aloud, he said, "Well, your guest has arrived. Hostess, shall we begin?"

"Certainly, Honored Guest. Come this way," Belle replied, bowing again. She saw him to his place, and then carefully began the tea ceremony. To his practiced eye, she made several mistakes, but they were minor errors that did not interfere with the grace of the ceremony as a whole. When she finally handed him the tea bowl brimming with freshly whisked green tea, he thought privately that he had never smelled anything so good. As custom dictated, he took small sips as she waited patiently for him to hand the bowl back to her. Later she offered him sweet beanpaste candies to defray the bitter taste of the tea, and once he was satisfied Belle abandoned her duties as hostess and became entertainer. He watched, spellbound, as she dipped and turned and flipped her fan. Only in the last moments of the dance did she falter and drop the fan, which fell with a clatter at the Beast's front paws. He stood, picked it up, and handed it back to her. Though the thick white face paint hid it he was certain she was blushing red.

"Well, one thing's for certain, I will never be a _geisha_," she joked, breathing hard.

"Another thing is certain, Kirei-san," he replied, allowing her to lean against him while she caught her breath, "_Geisha_ spend years learning to do all that they do without error before they are allowed to perform in public. You have been learning for months only. That you have come so far in such a short time is remarkable. You are to be heartily congratulated."

"Thank you." Belle smiled, a genuine European smile that showed her teeth between the red paint on her lips and made his dragon's heart take a few extra beats. For some reason, she didn't seem to want to move away from leaning against him. Or perhaps that was his imagination. However, imagination or not, they stood that way for several minutes, watching a few stray cherry blossom petals flutter down from the white trees before Sasaki-san arrived. The small _onii_ gave a masterfully discreet cough.

Belle leaped away as though the Beast's scales suddenly burned. "Oh, Sasaki-san, I am so sorry for keeping you waiting," she apologized.

"Not at all, Beru-san, I was merely coming to fetch you so that you may prepare for dinner. If you are ready…?" He bowed deeply and ushered her away.

Setsuko-san, the senior page, appeared moments later to escort his Master to the banquet hall, which had been hastily redecorated somewhat to suit the dinner's Western theme. The Beast followed the yellow _onii_ without watching where they were going, lost in his own thoughts and newly-rediscovered nerves about his own ordeal-by-etiquette that was to follow.

Belle used the hour in her room regaining her composure as well as her more accustomed appearance. In that time she and Mitsuko hastily swabbed off her makeup, removed her wig, redid her twisted brown hair in an elegant but deceptively simple European style, and poured her into a French dinner-and-ball gown that Belle had been working on carefully for weeks. She had sometimes made her own clothing at home, but never anything fancy. That had been her mother's job. However, with Mitsuko's help Belle had taken apart two silk _kimonos_ without damaging the embroidery too badly and re-sewn them into a gown that she felt was worthy of the finest circles of the French court. The form-fitting bodice was made of a spring-green_ kimono_ traced with light purple embroideries of plums, with the stomacher cut from a lavender _kimono_ embroidered with sharp gray birds that Mitsuko said were nightingales. The blooming skirt underneath was constructed of wide, alternating bands of the same two _kimonos_ reaching from her waist to the floor. When everything was in place to her satisfaction, Belle took a deep breath and stepped from her room.

She had been expecting dinner to be awkward and full of uncomfortable silences, but to her surprise everything flowed more or less naturally. The Beast's face had been impossible to read when she arrived in her finery, but Belle thought she caught a glimpse of stunned pleasure his glinting eyes. She sank into a low curtsy, he stood on his hind legs to curve his flexible spine in a bow, and escorted her smoothly to her place at the table while continuing to walk on two legs. Belle privately wondered how much time he had spent practicing to perfect those motions. Looking back, she realized that in the past week or so she had seen him walking upright far more than in all the rest of their months of acquaintance put together. Perhaps her surprise wouldn't turn out to be such a trial for him as she had anticipated after all. But she had no time to consider this, for the first course was being served.

French conversation flowed from subject to subject without much difficulty: the gardens, the weather, the cherry blossoms, Belle's dress, the food. If the Beast took a moment or two longer to consider the words he wanted before he spoke, it mattered little. Belle caught herself wishing several times that the evening, and the easy closeness she felt to her companion, could last forever.

At last, when dessert was complete, Belle stood and made her way around the table to stand beside the Beast's chair. "Come."

"Where are we going?" He looked at her quizzically, tilting his head on its sinuous neck.

"To the main audience chamber, the two-storied one. Sasaki-san has someone to meet us there."

"For what purpose?"

Belle hid her smile at the complete bafflement in his voice. "Why, I'm going to teach you to dance!"

_Author's Note: Several things to say from your humble servant. 1) I had to extend the ballroom scene to the next chapter because this one was starting to get long. 2) One thing I regret about changing the Beast's appearance is that I couldn't put him in human clothing for this scene. The anatomy of a dragon just doesn't work. 3) I have to admit that a few aspects of this chapter were borrowed from the movie Memoirs of a Geisha, though the majority of it is based on my own experiences of Japanese culture. If you want to see what a traditional Japanese female ensemble looks like you can watch the movie, but bear in mind that the fashions for geisha entertainers were made to set them apart from the rest of society. Though all women in Tokugawa Japan wore kimonos of various materials, everyone knew who was a geisha and who wasn't simply by the way they dressed and the way they wore their hair. 5) OK, enough of my prattling about Japanese fashion, and on to language notes. Dare ga imasuka means Who is it? and sakura are cherry blossoms (which in Japan usually bloom in late March, and even today it's a national pastime to go and view them. To the Japanese they have always been a metaphor for the beauty and fragility of life. Appropriate, no?)_


	16. Crushed Petals

**Chapter 15**

_Disclaimer: You all know the drill by now. I ripped off Disney, didn't have permission, acknowledgements and apologies, etc…_

Belle led the protesting Beast down the corridors, glad that she had had Dai show her the shortest route the day before. Otherwise they might have wandered for quite some time before arriving in the main receiving hall. As promised, Sasaki-san had sent the requested servant to meet them there. When asked, the fussy and proper _onii_ had admitted that this particular servant had long ago learned the Western violin and would be agreeable to play for a dance lesson. Though Belle would have preferred a spinet, or at least a flute in addition to the violin, she was very grateful to have any appropriate music at all.

As the squeals of a tuning violin echoed throughout the hall, Belle began instructing the Beast in a slow waltz. Her mother had insisted she learn all sorts of fashionable dances, though Belle had complained bitterly as a child about their uselessness for a merchant's daughter. The underlying reason for this, of course, was not that she hated dancing, rather that she was always forced to dance with one of the rambunctious boys from next door. But now Belle was grateful for the practice in steering a reluctant partner without making it seem as if she were doing so. The Beast, still awkward balancing on his stunted hind legs, leaned heavily on her for the first few minutes as she led him slowly around the reception hall. Belle felt sweat trickling down her back and mentally scolded herself for such a poor idea. But then he suddenly seemed to find his rhythm and took over the lead step from her seemingly without effort.

Belle relinquished control reluctantly, and ruefully had to admit to herself that she was _used_ to leading when she danced with a partner. But slowly she began to relax and allow the steps to flow naturally. The violinist picked up the pace, and Belle and the Beast came with it, lost in the magic and unconscious ease that comes when dancing with someone deeply trusted. Around and around they whirled…1, 2, 3 and 1, 2, 3 and…eyes locked…1, 2, 3 and…the room a blur…1, 2, 3 and…her palm resting gently in his clawed paw… Belle could not tear her gaze from his brilliant, flame-colored eyes. Then, abruptly, the eyes changed. The thin black slits of the pupils rounded out, and the fiery eyes staring at her from that reptilian face were human, filled with such sadness and longing that it made her heart sore. Caught by the spell of those eyes and stirred by the sudden depth of her own feelings, she leaned forward and rested her head gently on his white, snakelike chest.

They remained that way for several minutes as the music slowed. Then, very suddenly to Belle, they were brought back to earth by the musician's voice.

"My apologies!" it said, gasping, "But I simply cannot play anymore!"

Belle slowly stepped away from the Beast, sneaking a look at his eyes as he lowered himself to all fours once more. Slit-pupiled. Had she simply imagined the way they had changed, or not? Either way, she was not sure she liked the turn her thoughts were taking. She _liked_ the Beast, certainly, though she would have thought herself mad to admit such a thing seven months before. But she trembled to think of the way her mind was arrowing forward, towards something she was not yet ready to see.

She shook her head a few times to distract herself, a gesture the Beast noticed immediately. "_Genki desu ka? _Are you well, Kirei-san?"

"Yes, of course." Belle was relieved to find that her voice still worked properly.

"Dizzy? Tired? Shall I escort you to your room?"

"No, no, I'm all right." She smiled at the disbelief in his eyes. "Truly. I was…dizzy for a moment. From the spinning. But I feel much better now."

"Perhaps a walk in the gardens?" he suggested, "It may be chilly still at this time of the year, but you will enjoy the sight of the cherry blossoms against the moon and sky."

"That sounds wonderful." And so they went out to the _sakura_ tea pavilion again and stood admiring the blooming trees, silvered pale by the rising full moon. Belle shivered slightly at the wind's cold touch and stepped closer to the Beast; even here he was as warm as a banked kitchen fire. Though she would have liked to admire the beauty of the night and the trees, Belle found her thoughts turning to her father. She wondered, as she had not dared for some time, how he was faring without her. A single hot tear found its way down her cheek.

A gentle claw flicked it away. "Kirei-san? What is it? Tell me, please."

"I…" Belle faltered. She had never spoken of her worries about her father to the Beast, at first thinking he would not care and later remaining silent out avoidance of her own feelings. She took a deep breath. "I, I miss my father," she said in a rush.

"Are you so unhappy here with me, then?" There was no mistaking the hurt in his voice.

"_No_!" Belle surprised herself with the strength of her words. "I _am_ happy here. Happier than I've been for…well, since before my mother died. But I worry so about my father. I wish I could see him once again, just to be certain he is safe and well."

"I understand," he said, so quietly that she almost missed it. She wondered how he could possibly understand, but then a stray memory of his brief, unconscious query when Belle had been tending his wounds chased its way across her thoughts. What of his own parents? Did he even have any family to remember, and miss?

"I'm sorry. I should never have mentioned it. It was selfish of me," she said, turning away to look out at the trees against the sky again.

"Never say that, Kirei-san. You are the least selfish of anyone I've ever known." He paused, and when she did not say anything, added in a low voice, "And as to your father…I believe I may have a way for you to see him."

Belle spun, making her rustling embroidered skirts flare around her. "Truly? You don't know what that would mean to me."

"Come, then." He led her back towards the _oshiro_, which was lit shimmering grey-white by the moon behind them. Belle remained silent with anticipation as they walked through the halls, but was startled when she set her foot down on a board and was met with an all-too-familiar squeal.

She stopped, staring at the Beast. "But…but this is…"

"Come. There is nothing to fear," was all he said without looking back. Nervously, Belle followed him, doing her best not to wince at every fresh cry from the nightingale floor.

Inside the soot-darkened room, Belle's eyes immediately sought out the sword she had seen before. This time, it was sheathed and displayed horizontally on a set of polished wooden stands placed on the table where the bowl of soup had been. As she drew closer, she saw that the sword's sheath was decorated with designs of dragons similar to those throughout the _oshiro_. The Beast, after unshuttering the glassed windows to let in the moonlight, took it off the stands with gentle care.

"This is Nightingale," he said conversationally, as if he were introducing her to a person.

"It's…lovely," was all the response Belle could think of.

Fortunately, the Beast either did not notice her awkwardness or chose to ignore it. He unsheathed the sword and laid the sheath on the table. Bare, Nightingale glinted deadly silver in the moonlight filtering in from the room's windows, the dark vines twisting on the side facing Belle. She noticed that the wilting red rose was nearly invisible near the haft, while the rest of the sword was just as she remembered it. Before she could ask any questions the Beast turned it over to reveal that the other side was undecorated and polished to mirror hue.

"I don't understand," Belle said after a moment, looking from him to the sword.

"Simply breathe on the flat of the blade so that you can no longer see your reflection, and then tell it what you wish to see," he instructed. Belle moved to take the sword from him and he pulled back. "I will hold it. Just do as I told you." Belle thought she detected a hint of a growl in his voice, so she did what he asked. Feeling a little foolish, she blew a mist of steam over the blade, and then said quickly, "Nightingale, I wish to see my father."

Immediately, the mist pulled back from the blade, and instead of her own reflection she saw a room filled with rows of solemn, seated, Nipponese men. About to ask the Beast what she had done wrong, she stopped when a heavyset figure was shoved before them. Belle cried out in dismay when she realized it was her father.

A voice came echoing from somewhere near the blade hilt. The words were in Nipponese, but Belle understood them all too well: "We find this man guilty of the crime of attempting to leave the official land allotted to the _gaijin_ Dutchmen without permission." As Belle watched in horror, Koru was led to stand beside her father. The Nipponese judge, who was seated foremost in the rows of men, said, "We further find this man guilty of aiding the foreigner in his plans. The sentence: banishment from Nippon for the _gaijin_ and death for his companion… "

"No! No!" Belle shrieked, backing away with her hands over her eyes. "It can't be true, it can't be!" Her knees buckled, and she fell hard on the wooden floor amid her billowing skirts, sobbing in despair.

"Kirei-san," a gentle, rumbling voice said, calling her back to the present. She lifted her blurry eyes to meet the Beast's own troubled ones. "Kirei-san, listen to me. It is likely that your father was attempting to come here to rescue you and was caught this time. I feel responsible for this unfolding tragedy. And there is nothing either of us can do to change his fate or that of his companion while you remain here."

"I can't just sit here and watch."

"No. And I cannot ask you to do so." There was a long, heavy pause. At last, the Beast glanced down at Nightingale, which Belle noticed was turned so that the side facing him was the side traced with vines. He looked away for a moment, closing his eyes, and then said in a low voice, "But you may share your father's fate, if you wish."

Belle stared. "Are you saying—"

"I release you from your promise to stay here always. We both know that it was wrong of me to do so, just as it would be wrong to cage you when your heart calls you elsewhere. If you so choose, you may return to the Dutch quarter, and leave Nippon forever with your father when the time comes."

Belle's heart leapt strangely. "I…well…thank you…"

"You must understand, though, Kirei-san. If you leave the _oshiro_ grounds, you can never change your mind and return. An enchantment is on this place, and it cannot be found by any who are looking for it, only by those who arrive here by accident. If you were to leave, and then decide otherwise, it would be too late. No matter how you wandered in the forest, the _oshiro_ would not appear."

"I understand." Belle was silent for a moment, trying to ignore the niggling feeling that she was doing the wrong thing.

Her expression was easily read. The Beast sighed, and said, "Go, then, if that is your decision. You must leave at once if you are to reach the Dutch quarter in time."

"I don't know how to thank you..." Belle trailed away, unable to think of anything better to say in parting.

He looked away, baring his teeth, as though her words pained him. Since it seemed that he wasn't going to say anything more, Belle started to turn. But his rough voice, strangely choked, said, "Wait." She paused, looking at him. He held out a dagger, much more finely made than the one she used for practice. The hilt and sheath matched the designs on Nightingale perfectly, though the silver-blue blade, when she drew it to look, was undecorated. "Take this with you. Use it well, as long as you live…and remember me."

"I could never forget you, Beast," Belle said with feeling. Then, unable to bear the look in his eyes anymore, she turned and fled down the nightingale corridor towards her own room.

_Author's note: Sniff! Sniff! The heartbreak begins..._

_In case anyone is wondering, a spinet is a forerunner of the piano. And "Genki desu ka" literally means "Are you healthy?", but is more colloquially translated as "How are you?" or "Are you well?"_

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	17. Heartache

**Chapter 16**

_Disclaimer: OK, people, it's Disney. Say it with me: Dis-ney. (Kudos for you if you get the Disney movie reference from this one!)_

The Beast watched Belle vanish down the hallway, greater weight descending on him with her every step. At last, the nightingale floor fell silent, and she was gone. Gone out of his life.

"Idiot!" he cursed himself aloud, with a short accompanying molten blast of fire. "Why didn't you at least ask her before she left?" He knew, though, the answer to his own question: while she might have had some buried feelings for him, her love for her father was far stronger. Hadn't she proved that already by agreeing to the Beast's cruel bargain in the first place in order to spare her father's life? Certainly whatever she felt for him, the Beast, was not a 'love that lasts beyond time'. That part of Belle's heart belonged to her faraway father and deceased mother. But as for his own feelings…

His heart was given. Though she didn't know it, would never know it, Belle now carried his heart with her as she left him, and the further away she went the more it hurt. And it was because she held his heart that she was able to leave. He had seen the mingled hope and joy in her face when he offered to let her go, and had known then that the honorable thing to do would be to release her. Even if letting her go would destroy him in the process.

"'Honor' and 'Service'," he spat harshly, mocking. "The _yuurei_ was right, after all these years. I _have_ discovered that Love matters in finding the true meaning of all other virtues, but in so doing I have lost everything." He sighed, and sank to the floor, curling into a tight and miserable ball. _This is your true form for always now,_ he thought, resting his head on his scaly tail. _The curse will never be broken. Kirei-san made her choice, and you made yours: she is not coming back. And Nightingale's final rose will vanish in a matter of days._ He didn't even have the heart to tell the servants yet; they had been so hopeful in the past weeks that he couldn't bear to see the looks on their loyal faces when they learned that they would never be human again either.

As if his thoughts had called to him, Dai-san appeared cheerfully in the doorway. "Master? Did all go well?"

The Beast decided to give the news without preamble; he owed it to the servants not to keep secrets from them. "Gather everyone in the household together in the main reception room, Dai-san. You are to be my official messenger of both my news and my deepest apologies."

"Apologies?" the young _onii_ looked completely flabbergasted.

"She's gone, Dai-san, and she's not coming back."

"Beru-san? _Why?_ I thought she liked it here! I thought she liked us, I thought…I thought she liked _you_."

"She did, I suppose. But her father is in trouble back in Nagasaki, and she felt obligated to go to him. She will return with him to Brussels in a matter of days."

"Bu…but…" Dai-san looked utterly crushed, "_how could you let her go?_"

The Beast turned his head away. He hadn't cried since the first hour of the curse's onset, but now he was nearly choked with the despair and sorrow in his chest. The unwanted, hated tears began to fall. In a very, very low voice, the Beast said, "Because…I love her."

Belle felt strangely-light headed as she made her way towards her own room to change and collect her things. She wanted to attribute the strange clawing at the pit of her stomach to excitement at being free to leave the _oshiro_ at last, but deep down she knew it wasn't that. The memory of the hurt in the Beast's eyes as he released her still haunted her thoughts. Several times she nearly changed her mind, but whenever she thought of her father's sorrow at never knowing what had happened to her she reaffirmed her resolve to go. It seemed an age until she was finally dressed in a very simple Nipponese kimono and covered by the old blue cloak Getsuru had given her, all as a precaution against detection when she was making her way through the forbidden portion of Nagasaki. She paused at the portcullis gate to look back one more time. The _oshiro_, imposing as it still was, no longer frightened her. It had been her home for seven swift months; she had been _happy_ there for the first time since her mother died. Did she really want to walk away from that? And the Beast. The same feeling that had once smote her in the _oshiro_ dungeon at losing her father forever was creeping over her once again as she thought about the Beast's stricken face.

Belle took a deep breath and stepped through the gate. Her father needed her. She couldn't turn her back on him now. So why did it feel, as the _oshiro_ faded out of sight for the last time behind her, that she was turning her back on someone else who had become just as dear to her? Jaw clenched hard against the tears, Belle continued on into the forest.

She found the clearing where the Beast had saved her from the _gaijin_-killers easily enough, and from there the narrow trail she remembered led back to the outskirts of the city. Belle was twice as cautious once she entered the city, careful to speak to no one and never to show her face. She spent the first night in a doorway and continued wandering the next morning until she came to a group of buildings she recognized: the pleasure district. Not long after that she reached the high, imposing wall of the Dutch quarter. But how to get inside? There were now guards posted around the bolt-hole she and Koru had used before; apparently that was where her father and the brave Nipponese man had been caught. The only other illegal entrance she knew of was the one that Getsuru used, the one that led into Bram's house.

As if her thoughts had called to him, Getsuru himself came strolling nonchalantly by. Belle's heart nearly leaped from her chest, but the young samurai did not even give her cloaked figure more than a cursory glance. On a sudden inspiration, Belle followed him at a distance until he vanished into one of the tall sheds that leaned precariously against the Dutch quarter wall. She waited for at least fifteen heart-stopping minutes, but he did not emerge again. Belle screwed up her courage at last and entered the shed, one hand clutching the Beast's dagger at her belt.

The shed was empty, to her intense relief. Behind some old crates in the tiny storage space over the main floor was a narrow rectangle of light. Belle squeezed past the crates, took two steps forward, and found herself looking at the headboard of the bed in the spare room Getsuru had once dragged her to. Belle pushed the bed out as far as she dared, fearing to make a noise that would alert Bram's family to her presence. At last, she was out from behind it. Gently she nudged it back into place, thinking with some scorn of Getsuru's brags about being a "real" man to be able to move the bed. Then, as silently as she knew how, she stole to the bedroom door and listened. She heard nothing behind it; she slid the door open and saw that there was no one in the hall or on the stairs. The front door was only a few feet beyond the base of the steps. Though she wanted nothing more than to pound down the steps, fling wide the door, and get out of the house as fast as she could, Belle forced herself to take things one step at a time. Then she was easing the door open, sliding through it, pulling the hem of her cloak out after her, and shutting the door again. She had made it!

Flushed with her success, Belle made her way as fast as she could to the house she and her father had once shared, careful to keep her cloak around her and to stay in the late-afternoon shadows of the houses. The Dutch quarter was as painfully small as she remembered, but luckily there were few people about at this time of day. Still, Belle could not help gasping when she bumped right into her old friend the bookseller, just locking up his shop for the day. His eyes bulged when he caught sight of her face. Before he could say anything Belle shushed him with a gesture and beckoned him to follow her. Without a word, he nodded, and she led the way back to her old house. Luckily the key was still hidden beneath the doorstep.

As soon as they were safely inside and Belle had removed her cloak, she rushed to the bookseller with her arms outstretched. But he backed away from her, his face pasty white, his fingers making the sign of the cross between them. "I know why you've come back," he whispered, "It's your father's trouble, isn't it? I swear, I'll help as much as I can to put it right so you can rest in peace once more."

Belle stopped short, completely thrown for a moment. Then she realized what was troubling the older man. With a slight smile she reached forward and pinched the bookseller firmly on the arm, laughing aloud at his yelp of pain. "See? It's only me, Belle. Doesn't that prove to you that I'm no ghost?" The Dutch words felt strange and clumsy on her tongue after months of disuse.

"Aye," he answered, ruefully rubbing the red patch beginning on his arm, "But Mistress Bella, if you're truly still alive, then…where have you _been_? And why in Heaven's name are you dressed as a Nipponese?"

"Oh, _zut_," Belle swore, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table, "There's so much to explain." She thought for a moment, then said, "Do you remember the day you told me the story about the haunted _oshiro_ outside of the city?"

"How could I forget? You vanished the very next day! Everyone assumed…"

"Assumed what?" Belle asked, surprised.

"That that samurai boy Getsuru had gotten you somehow. We all heard how you rejected him the first time, but when you didn't appear the next day, well…opinions differed. Most seemed to think you'd given in and become Getsuru's lover, and were living hidden in the luxury due the local lord's son's prize concubine. Myself, I knew how you felt about him. I knew you'd never willingly give yourself to a man like that. So there was only one other option--" He looked away, brushing roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You thought he killed me," Belle finished softly. "My friend, I am so sorry for the worry I must have caused you."

The bookseller smiled thinly and patted her hand. "In truth, girl, I worried more for your father. When he returned from that trip of his, he was desolated without you." Belle's heart constricted painfully at these words. The bookseller continued, "He shut himself up for weeks; the only people who saw him at all were the kind souls who brought him food. My good wife was one of them. She said he looked like death walking for the longest time…but then he seemed to pick himself up and get on. And now he's mixed up in this terrible business…"

"Yes! Tell me what's been happening! I want to hear about his arrest!" Belle demanded, leaning forward.

"Very well, I shall tell you all I know," the bookseller replied calmly, "if you first tell me truthfully where you have been keeping yourself these past six months and more."

Belle slumped back in her chair, staring at the floor. "You won't believe me."

"Try me. I've been fed many a tall tale in my day, and learned exactly what to swallow and no more. It's how I've lived as long as I have." The old man's sharp eyes bored into her.

Belle sucked in a hard breath, and began her story.

_Author's Note: I feel really evil admitting this, but I have actually been very pleased with all of the concerned responses to Chapter 15 I have been getting! It's an author's dream come true when she causes the audience to react the way she wants (maniacal cackle). Keep reading, keep reviewing, and all will be revealed in due time._

_Jya Matashita,_

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	18. The Jailhouse

**Chapter 17**

_Disclaimer: I have to admit, I'm getting a little sick of coming up with creative disclaimers that acknowledge that Disney owns this story and not me…hey! That works! On with the story!_

_The Next Afternoon_

The door to the Dutch quarter's tiny jail opened with a squeal of rusty hinges, throwing dim, dappled light onto the two men imprisoned behind a set of bars that reached from ceiling to floor. Both looked up in surprise, squinting against the unaccustomed light to see three dark figures in the doorway.

"You have five minutes," the jailer's voice said roughly. One of the figures, heavyset and bulky and presumably the voice's owner, turned and walked away. Once it was out of sight, the thinner of the remaining figures took two quick steps forward, where her lovely face was clearly visible to the prisoners.

"Oh, _ma petite_," Maurice gasped, rushing to the bars to embrace his daughter with happy tears. "How did…I thought I'd never see…"

"Papa, I'm so sorry…" was all she could say. To Maurice, it didn't matter. Just to hold her in his arms and stroke her hair under his fingers was all he needed to know that he wasn't dreaming and his dear Belle, the child he'd thought was forever lost, was with him once again. At last, it was she who pulled away first. She turned to the other man in the cell. "Koru." And then, inexplicably, she launched into a brief string of flawless Nipponese. The little man's eyes widened, but he only bowed deeply in response.

"Belle!" said Maurice sharply, torn between shock and pride. "How did you do that? And what about the--" he stopped, glancing surreptitiously at Belle's companion, the Dutch quarter bookseller.

"The Beast?" Belle finished quietly. Maurice, dim as the light in the jail was, did not miss the brief softness that came into her eyes as she said the name. But before he could pursue this, his daughter added, "It's all right, Papa, I told the bookseller everything."

"That's all very well, but how did you manage to escape from that awful monster?" Maurice burst out.

"There was no need to _escape_." Belle said, as if the idea was surprising, "The Beast let me go on his own."

"He _what_? That…that creature, that…that…"

"Papa, listen to me. We don't have time for this. Suffice it for me to say that he's not what you think. He's not terrible at all. He's been very kind to me, these last months. "

"And…and you don't have to return?"

"No." Belle paused, biting her lip, her brow creased. "I will go home with you to Brussels, if it comes to that."

"If comes to that?" asked Koru, who had clearly been listening with silent interest. "What Medemoseru know we do not?"

"I believe--and he agrees with me," Belle gestured at the bookseller, who was keeping watch at the open door, "That you were set up. This has all been a trap."

This pronouncement was so dumbfounding that neither Maurice nor Koru said anything except a startled, simultaneous "_What?_"

"There was only one person in the city, besides the two of you, who knew that Belle wasn't either Getsuru's prisoner or murdered by him," the bookseller explained, "Not even I knew her fate. And I assume you told no one of her true whereabouts for fear you would not be believed." Koru nodded from beside Maurice, his forehead wrinkled with worry.

This was a going a bit too far for Maurice to keep track of. "So what precisely are you saying? Who would want _us_ as prisoners, and what purpose could that possibly serve him?"

"I believe I hear my cue," came a new voice from the hall.

Everyone in the room froze. Belle slid her hand onto the dagger the Beast had given her, the motion hidden by her cloak. She had known it was dangerous, coming to see her father, if her suspicions about who had set Maurice up were correct. And now she had inadvertently sprung the very trap they had been trying to avoid. She resisted the unladylike urge to swear aloud at her own stupidity.

A familiar figure stood in the doorway, casually palming a gleaming samurai sword. "Good afternoon, Beru-san," Getsuru said in Dutch with a bold, smooth air, as if they had simply met by chance in the street. "So pleasant to see you here after all this time…away. I knew putting your father in prison would draw you out of hiding sooner or later."

Belle's hand clenched on the dagger. "I have no quarrel with you, Getsuru. None of us do. Why did you tell the guards about the secret entrance my father and Koru were planning to use? They did no more than you are doing now by being here in the quarter."

"Haven't you guessed, Beru-san?" Getsuru chuckled at Belle's puzzled expression. "You women are so naïve; it's a wonder you live as long as you do without a male constantly providing the answers. None more than you, pretty thing. You need a man more than anyone else, if only to remind you of your subservient place in the world."

"Stay away from me," Belle said, backing as far as she could into the bars of the jail cell. "What exactly is it that you hope to gain by putting my father in prison?"

"Such a pity. They said you had a few brains. I didn't think I would have to spell out for you the interesting position you find yourself in," Getsuru sighed with mock sympathy. "Very well. If you agree to come with me quietly and become a humble little wife in my household, I will ask for clemency for your father and your peasant friend. My word, as a lord's son and acclaimed samurai, carries much weight in the city. They will be free by tomorrow."

"And if I refuse to become your obedient shrew?" Belle spat out, disgusted.

Getsuru's lip curled ever so slightly. "Then your father is shipped out as a prisoner on the first available boat to the Netherlands, which, as I recall, leaves in two days. You, of course, will be arrested for leaving the Dutch quarter yourself and placed on a different ship. As for your peasant friend, he will be executed as a criminal."

Belle gasped in horror, gripping the bars behind to keep her knees from giving way. She would die herself before marrying such a man as Getsuru, but how could she choose the alternative and condemn Koru to death with the helpless victim looking on from behind bars?

"Pardon me, sir," the bookseller, ignored until now, suddenly cut in, "But have you any proof that Mistress Bella has ever left the Dutch quarter?"

"Of course I do." Belle got the sense that if Getsuru had been a Westernman, he would have rolled his eyes. "How do you think I knew of that secret entrance they used? I followed Beru-san and her lackey the evening she slipped out of my grasp, but could not catch up to them in time to prevent them from leaving. I have proof with my own eyes, which is more than enough. After all, it is unbecoming of a samurai's honor speak falsehoods."

"And it less becomes your precious honor to attempt to force a woman to marry you by threatening those dear to her," Belle snapped. She whipped her dagger forward to point at Getsuru's throat. "I've heard all I care to hear from you. Now, get out," she ordered coldly.

Getsuru's face set. His shoulders shifted slightly, and suddenly the knife was knocked from Belle's hand with a clatter of metal. She dove for it, cursing herself for allowing her anger to make her forget about his unsheathed _katana_, but Getsuru was faster. He picked up the Beast's gift to her, examining it closely. For once, his cool eyes showed surprise. "Where did you get this?" he demanded.

"It was given to me," Belle replied through clenched teeth, "by the dragon who resides in the _oshiro_ in the forest outside the city. I was his prisoner, if you truly wish to know where I've been these last months."

"I thought I recognized this blade," Getsuru said, half to himself.

"What do you mean?" Belle asked. Since he seemed so distracted studying the dagger, she reached to snatch it back. She wasn't quite swift enough, and he moved it out of her reach.

"I mean, girl, that as part of my warrior's training I had to memorize the distinctive markings of all the significant _katana_ swords of Nippon. The design of this dagger in particular matches that of a sword that was lost nearly ten years ago, a sword that belonged to the son of the Shogun. Strange that the monster would give you the matching dagger. An odd gift from captor to captive, for the blades are not meant to be separated." Getsuru glared suspiciously at her.

"I did _not_ steal it! He gave it to me freely, for protection when I…" Belle trailed away, covering her mouth, realizing she'd said too much.

Getsuru's eyes narrowed even further, if that was possible. "Protection? Does the creature have…_feelings_ for you, then, Beru-san? Did it use its cunning and trick you into believing it thinks and feels as humans do?" He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Belle opened her mouth to deny the possibility of the Beast having such feelings for her, but a stray memory of the heartbroken look in the Beast's eyes as he told her she could return to her father flashed across her vision. Was it possible…?

If she had not been lost in her own thoughts, she might have laughed at the astonished look on Getsuru's face. After a long moment, he seemed to recover. "And the sword? Did you see a sword that matches this dagger?"

"Nightingale," Belle whispered, her eyes still on the Beast's face.

"Then you _have_ seen it? The Beast keeps it?"

Surprised at this sudden turn of the samurai's mind, Belle answered, "Yes, of course I've seen it. Why, what is so important about that sword?"

"It is a great crime to keep a _katana_ blade that you have not rightfully earned or won in battle. Especially the blade of someone you have cold-bloodedly murdered."

"Murdered?" Belle recalled the bookseller's original tale of the creature that lived in the _oshiro_, and how it had killed the Shogun's own son. Her first impression of the cruelty of the Beast. But… "The Beast I know would never kill anyone. He is far too gentle and honorable," she declared loyally.

This time, Getsuru actually staggered back a pace as if she had struck him. "You…you reciprocate that monster's…_feelings_?" He spat the word like a curse.

Belle stuck her chin out. "_You_ dare to call _any_one a monster, Getsuru? The Beast is far more human than you'll ever be."

"And to think I wished a mad thing like you for a wife!" Getsuru was slowly recovering from his shock, replacing it with steely anger and the usual calm calculation. "Well. My duty is now clear. I must slay the murdering Beast and retrieve Nightingale from its evil clutches. I shall be a hero to the people of Nippon forever for doing so. And perhaps it will lift the spell the monster seems to have cast over _you_."

"No!" Belle cried in horror. Forgetting all else, she rushed at Getsuru and tried to pry the _daito_ knife from his hand. He flung her back, calling for the jailer as he did so. The bookseller tried to prevent the man from entering, but in the scuffle that followed was knocked unconscious. Before Belle realized what was happening, she was bodily hurled into the barred room with her father and Koru. The bookseller was dumped on the floor beside her, and the door slammed shut.

"That will prevent any of you from sneaking off to warn the monster while we make preparations," Getsuru snarled.

Belle threw herself at the door. "It won't work!" she screamed at those hateful, calculating brown eyes, "The Beast told me his _oshiro_ can never be found by any who are looking for it. You'll wander in the forest forever and never reach it!"

Getsuru did not even seem surprised. "Ah, Beru-san, but there are ways around such magic. Oh yes, there are ways." With a satisfied chuckle, he strolled out of the room, followed by the jailer, who leered at them all before slamming the door behind him.

Belle sank to the floor beside the unconscious bookseller, face in her hands. "Oh, Papa, what have I done? I've ruined everything, and now the Beast is going to die because of me!" she wailed. Burying her head in his shoulder as he knelt beside her, she began to weep, deep sobs of utter despair that did not come close to easing the ache in her heart.

_Author's Note: And so the plot thickens… I'm not used to writing so much dialogue in one chapter!_

_Thanks again to jarethsdragon for your invaluable information about the part of samurai training where they had to memorize the designs and markings of famous swords. As you can see, it really came in handy!_

_Cheers, and keep reading all!_

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	19. Prisoners Again

**Chapter 18**

_Disclaimer: Story: Disney. Words and so on: me!_

_One Hour Later_

Belle sat leaning against the wooden wall of the jail, eyes closed, trying her best to think of nothing. Every time she did, the tears would threaten to fall again.

_Oh, _Mon Dieu_, what have I set into motion? How could I be so stupid?_ her mind repeated over and over. _If only I could get out of here, I would go straight back to the _oshiro_ and warn the Beast. If Getsuru kills him, I will _never_ forgive myself!_

As if echoing her thoughts, Koru sat up sharply from his position in one corner and said, "Allow Getsuru-sama to commit murder of innocent, even innocent Beast, will be Dishonor on all. Must escape and find way to stop him!"

"What purpose would that serve?" the bookseller, who had awoken some time before, put in sharply, "The cost would be our reputations, and more than likely our lives if we were caught!"

Koru sniffed audibly. "In Nippon, life small price compare to loss of Honor."

"Well, I suppose when you put it that way," the bookseller said with the tiny smile of someone who has been put in his place and doesn't like it, "then it's true we have no choice. I'm all for an escape plan. Maurice, Mistress Bella, what do you say?"

"Belle…" Her father glanced at her sideways.

"Anything that might help the Beast," Belle said, clenching her hand into a fist. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

At that moment, the door into the non-barred section of the room creaked open. All of them winced, and did their best to look casual and not as if they had just been discussing escape. But at first no one seemed to be entering the room. The four prisoners exchanged wary glances, slowly climbing to their feet as they did. Belle privately wished for the security of the Beast's dagger in her palm.

The door pushed open a bit further, and a shadow appeared. Belle's heart constricted when she saw its shape. "Beru-san? You here?" whispered a familiar voice in accented Dutch.

"Dai?" Belle half-whispered, half-shrieked. The door opened even farther, revealing the one-armed, blue-skinned _onii_…carrying a jangling bunch of keys. "Oh, Dai, thank God, how did you know to…how did you get here?" Belle cried in a jumble, rushing to the bars. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Koru shrink back against the far wall and the bookseller make a hasty sign of the cross at the _onii_'s grotesque appearance.

"Dai is a friend of mine, one of the servants from the _oshiro_," Belle explained to the men. They relaxed, very slightly, so Belle turned back to Dai, who was unlocking their cell door. "Dai, how did you know we were in trouble? And how did you get those keys?" she asked.

"I followed Beru-san," Dai explained cheerfully in Dutch, "Have been waiting for chance to get inside for some time. Man who guards," he puffed out his cheeks to indicate the heavyset jailer, "turned back, I drop board on head, steal keys. Beru-san," he added sternly, blocking her way as she started to exit the barred room, "why leave _oshiro_? It was your home. We were family."

"Dai, I can't begin to apologize to you…and everyone else. I am very sorry I left, and have caused a great harm by doing so. Your Master is in grave danger." Quickly, she explained about Getsuru and his plans.

Dai gasped. "Must leave at once! Quickly!"

"Dai, it's no use," Belle said dejectedly, "Your Master told me there is an enchantment on the _oshiro_ so that those who are looking for it will never find it."

Dai gave her an odd look. "How think _onii_ found way back, when Master injured saving Beru-san?" he demanded.

Then Belle remembered. She and the Beast had both been long out of sight of the _oshiro_ when he had rescued her from the _gaijin_-haters in the clearing, yet the _onii_ servants had gone back and forth several times to bring their Master and his captive home. "You mean…?"

"_Onii_ exempt—is right word? exempt?—from _oshiro_ spell. I can lead you back, easy." Dai bowed low.

Belle nearly collapsed from relief. "Well, thank God for that." She turned to the others. "I have to go back to the _oshiro_ and warn the Beast of Getsuru's plans. You are all welcome to come as well. I understand if you want to stay." She said this for both her father and Koru especially, who had neither of them had pleasant experiences with the Beast and his castle.

"_Ma chèrie,_ I won't lose you again, no matter what," Maurice said, coming to take her arm.

She gave him a brief hug. "Thank you, Papa."

Koru also came to stand by them, his round face stoic. "Rather not wait here for execution," was all he said.

They all looked at the bookseller. "Oh, very well," he grumbled, "Master Koru's right, I suppose, the alternative of going to a haunted castle would be much worse. Especially since I would have to concoct some plausible-sounding yet entirely untruthful explanation for your disappearance. Let's go."

"Come then." Dai led them quietly out of the room, past the unconscious jailer, and into the late twilight of the Dutch quarter.

The small _onii_ took the group to yet another secret exit from the Dutch quarter, this one much more cleverly concealed: a rock tunnel that ran from the docks, under the quarter itself, and into an abandoned building in the Nagasaki pleasure district.

"Dai," Belle whispered once they were all out of the tunnel and taking a few seconds' rest, "How did you know that that the tunnel was there?"

"Shi-shi!" Dai hushed her. He was already peering out into the street to make certain that there was no one about. "Must be careful that no one sees," he said, beckoning. He did not answer Belle's question, and she had no opportunity afterwards to pose it again.

The rest of the journey through Nagasaki was harrowing, for they would have no explanation for three foreigners, some of whom were already charged with illegally leaving the Dutch quarter, sneaking about the streets at night. Too many times to count they were nearly caught, but almost miraculously they managed to slide by various members of the unsuspecting populace of Nagasaki. At last they reached the safety of the forest and were able to rest a few moments more, but Belle's urgency drove them on towards their goal. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when the trees parted and the familiar stone bulk of the Beast's domain towered over them.

Belle sighed with relief. There was no sign of Getsuru, or any other unusual intrusion. The _oshiro_ looked just as it always did. Heart leaping at seeing the Beast again, she began to run towards the gates.

"Belle…wait! Stop!" she heard her father cry out, but she barely noticed. She reached the gate and it creaked open to admit her. Belle ducked under it in her eagerness, and then turned back to wait for the others. What she saw at the edge of the trees made her blood run cold.

Her father, Koru, Dai, and the bookseller were surrounded by a large party of at least fifty weapon-toting Nipponese. At their head, casually aiming his enormous, six-foot bow at her heart, was a figure magnificently arrayed in samurai armor.

"Stay where you are," the samurai ordered, and Belle recognized the voice with a tremor of sick horror. The figure stalked slowly towards her, keeping the bow taught and ready to fire, followed by the rest of the men. Maurice, the bookseller, Koru, and Dai were dragged along as well. When every last one of the group had all passed under the wide-open gate, the man in the samurai costume waved. Belle's small party of supporters were pushed towards her, and then all five were surrounded by bristling weapons.

"Getsuru," Belle spat at their leader, who brandished a shining _katana_ sword. "How on _earth_ did you find this place?"

"You females really are the most brainless creatures," Getsuru replied with an air of amused calm, "Although the maternal protective instinct is quite something to applaud. We followed you here, of course. I knew you and the monster had to have some sort of connection; did you think I would have let you slip away so easily if not to allow you to lead my little hunting party to our quarry?"

Belle's vision went dark at this, though with shock, terror, rage, or self-loathing she could not have said. She fought to keep erect, but her knees wobbled dangerously. She locked them in place, still straining for control. At last, she whispered through clenched teeth, "I will not forget this, Getsuru."

"Of course you will, girl. That's the beauty of it. Once I have retrieved the stolen sword, the spell the creature has laid upon you will be broken and you will understand at last that I have done the right thing all along. Now, I have business to attend to." He motioned again, and ten of the men of his own party separated to drag Belle and the others of her rescue band towards the gatehouse. Belle strained mightily to think of some parting remark that might put a dent in Getsuru's smug self-confidence, but she was so choked by her own emotions that she had to settle for a fiery glare that could have melted marble. Then she and her companions were flung inside the stone gatehouse.

Getsuru appeared in the doorway, his outline that of an inhuman creature in his decorated samurai armor and mask against the flame-colored rising sun. "Here, Beru-san. A gift. It has served its purpose for now. Keep it safe for me until I return triumphant, won't you?" He slid something silver-blue across the floor. Belle picked it up dully and saw that it was the _daito_ knife the Beast had given her, the one that was Nightingale's pair. In a prison of metal and stone, as the gatehouse was, it was completely useless for escape. Its deadly image blurred before her as her eyes welled with tears of despair.

The gatehouse door slammed, locking them all in complete darkness. They were prisoners once again.

_Author's note: Anyone want to kill Getsuru with that knife right about now? Yeah, me too. The most irritating thing about him at this point is he actually believes he's doing the right ("honorable", in his mind) thing, though of course he's enjoying it waaaay too much for his own good. Language note pointed out to me by an astute reader: "sama", when applied at the end of a proper name, means "lord" or "lady"._


	20. Smoke

**Chapter 19**

_Disclaimer: Anything in this story that isn't specifically copyrighted by Disney belongs to me!_

Belle paced in the dark like a caged animal. The men and Dai stayed in a corner, out of her way. None of them spoke. It was as if they all had the same sense that the oppressive darkness around them could not be lifted by mere sound. Back and forth, back and forth Belle went, passing the Beast's knife from hand to hand almost without realizing what she was doing. At last she gave up and slumped against the nearest wall, clenching her teeth to keep from breaking that terrible, protective silence with a scream of rage and frustration.

And the wall behind her gave. Just a little, but enough for her to notice. Belle spun and began running her fingers over the well-laid blocks. There! A single large stone set at about waist height shifted under her touch, just slightly. She wriggled it a bit more. It wobbled, seemed to tremble under her hand, and then a tiny pinprick of morning light came piercing into their dark prison like a golden arrow.

Her companions were at her side in an instant.

"Oh, well done, Mistress Bella!" the bookseller whispered, breaking the silence at last now that the darkness was being pushed away. "Can it be removed?"

"Not sure." Koru had replaced Belle's hands on the stone with his. "Must be done carefully, or gatehouse may collapse."

"Collapse?" gasped Maurice. In the dim light Belle saw him glance nervously at the ceiling.

"Each piece important," Koru explained, still running his hands gently over the stone as if caressing it. "Remove wrong stone, entire bridge, house, castle will fall, Father told me. Father was master stonemason."

"Was?" Belle repeated, hearing the familiar edge in his voice that she often heard in her own and in her father's voices when they spoke of her mother. "What happened to him?"

Koru looked away for a moment, his fingers pausing on the stone. When he spoke, it was in Nipponese, for Belle's ears only. "Entombed in his own masterpiece."

"Entombed?" Belle was not certain she had heard correctly.

"He designed and built a magnificent bridge for my family's home province lord." Koru's voice was low. "When it was complete, the _daimyo_ decreed that no one should ever have a bridge so splendid again. So my father and the rest of the workers were shut away alive inside special compartments within the stone of the bridge. Their bones guard it now, for all time. I was barely more than a child, and Father had no time to teach me more than the basics of his trade. I swore when he died that I would never follow his footsteps, though as the eldest son in the family it was my duty. So I came to Nagasaki, made my living as a porter. I have not looked back. Until today."

"Koru, I'm…so sorry. I never meant to lead you to painful memories," Belle whispered, shocked by the horrible image that Koru had presented to her.

Koru waved one hand at her, a gesture of dismissal. "It is long past, now. I have made my peace with my father's spirit at last, by speaking of his death. And now, he will help us to escape by the knowledge he was able to give me."

In the end, it took all five of them, Dai included, to remove the stone according to Koru's precise specifications. _His father taught him well for such a short time,_ Belle reflected as they stared at the opening they had made. Then they made a discovery. The opening was too small for any of them to slip through except Belle, the thinnest of the humans, and of course Dai.

"_Allez, ma petite_," Maurice urged in French when Belle hesitated, "We'll be fine here. You must save your Beast from Getsuru's treachery."

Belle gave him one last quick hug, and followed Dai through the opening and into the sun. Both of them gave themselves only a few seconds to adjust to the light before Belle swung the little _onii_ to her shoulders and began sprinting towards the _oshiro_ keep. They smelled the heavy smoke billowing from the upper windows before they had gone ten steps.

The Beast had smelled smoke and distantly heard shouts, but had not realized what they meant until the nightingale floor sang with an unfamiliar, heavy tread. As a man in soot-blackened samurai costume thrust the doors to his suite open, the Beast dimly realized two things: his _oshiro_ was under attack, and that the _onii_ hadn't had the time to warn him because they were busy either battling men or flames. He didn't blame them for that. It spared him issuing any orders not to fight back, to allow the men to penetrate their defenses so that his own wretched life might be ended at last. The servants at least deserved a chance to defend themselves, even if it meant they had to believe they were defending their master.

"So." The samurai spoke, his voice calm and cultured, "I find you at last, hiding in your lair like a coward and allowing your little demons to fight for you. Prepare yourself for combat, monster."

The Beast sighed miserably. "You may wish for combat, samurai, but I shall not oblige you. Do as you will. I will not resist."

Even through the armor, the samurai seemed taken aback. "Then you will not fight for the possession of the Prince's sword? The sword that you unjustly stole when you murdered him ten years ago?"

Now it was the Beast's turn to be taken aback. So that was the story that had spread? That he, the first son of the Tokugawa house, had been murdered by the Beast…himself? The irony was a bitter tang in his mouth. Still, protocol demanded that he give an answer: "I say before you now that I did not murder the Shogun's son, and that I am the rightful possessor of the sword Nightingale."

The samurai actually had the nerve to scoff. "You wish me to believe that you rightfully won that sword? It belongs to me now, and I will defeat you with it!" So saying, he seized Nightingale from its stand and unsheathed it. The Beast surged forward, growling at the dishonor to the sword to be touched by one who was not its master, but then he abruptly quieted as a realization struck him.

He knew now that the moment had come. The moment that he believed should have arrived ten years earlier when the _yuurei_ held Nightingale in one hand and her cursed rose in the other. The moment when he would be slain with his own sword. He had thought then that he had nothing to lose, having been stripped of his own true body, but he had been wrong. Life without Belle, his Kirei-san, at his side, whatever shape he himself might be in, was truly not worth living. And so he fixed his eyes on his beloved Nightingale, silently asking for one more vision of Belle so that he might die with her before his eyes.

And as the curved blade came back in the samurai's hand, the mirror-bright side clouded for just a moment, then cleared again. In that brief, brief flash of vision the Beast saw, clear as crystal: Belle, sliding through a hole in the _oshiro_ gatehouse wall. And he heard, in his ears alone, her father's voice as it said, in French: "Go on, my little one. We'll be fine here. You must save your Beast from Getsuru's treachery."

His heart leaped, for he knew that the sword, like an honorable samurai, never lied. His mind fixed on one detail and one detail alone: his Kirei-san had returned after all! Abruptly his eye caught the steely metal glitter coming towards him, and he remembered where he was. As Nightingale descended towards his chest, he whipped himself out from under it and onto his attacker's chest with a speed he had not known that he possessed. Within seconds they were flat on the floor with the Beast on top.

"_You _dare_ to touch a _katana_ blade that you have not rightfully won_." His voice was a snake's poisonous hiss, low and dangerous. "_You will die for dishonoring Nightingale_." It was impossible to tell, in that moment, whether the smoke filling the room was from the burning _oshiro_ or his own burning fury.

It seemed only seconds before Belle and Dai had reached the main doors of the _oshiro_. The thick, elegantly carved wood had been smashed beyond repair by Getsuru and his men. Belle privately regretted the destruction of all the beautiful things of the Beast's castle, but she had no time to mourn for inanimate objects when there were lives at stake. Together, she and Dai made their way through the smoke-filled corridors, both searching desperately for some sign that the ones they sought still lived.

They reached the kitchen first. Shouts and men's shrieks told them that the _onii_ there were holding their own. Dai hesitated when Belle moved to continue her own search.

"Go!" Belle ordered in Nipponese as he took a step towards her. "Find Mitsuko-san and the other servants, rescue them if you can."

"But I--"

"Go! Dai, I owe you a great debt for all you've done. I promise to repay you if I can someday. But now your mother needs you more. _Itte kudasai!_ Go on!"

She and Dai stared at one another for another heartbeat, reaffirming friendship and loyalty with their eyes alone. Then Dai bowed deeply: the bow of humble servant to his lady Mistress. "Good fortune, Beru-sama! Save the Master!" he called, and then hurried as fast as his small legs could manage for the kitchen. Belle sprinted away down the corridor in the opposite direction, her legs already beginning to ache.

Up and down the maze of corridors she went, choking on occasional puffs of smoke, eyes stinging, heart feeling as though it were about to burst from her chest with anxiety. She resisted the urge to call out for the Beast; she did not want to alert Getsuru or his men to her presence if any of them happened to be about as well. At last, she rounded a corner and heard a welcome answering nightingale song from the floorboards. From behind the closed double doors at the far end of the hall came a man's cries, the voice all too familiar, and guttural reptilian snarls that were even more familiar. Ears ringing from all three sounds, Belle raced for the doors as fast as her exhausted legs could carry her.

_Author's Note: Language note: "Itte kudasai" is the polite command form for "go". Don't know how to do impolite!_

_Culture Note/Further Reading Recommendation: I am not sure if such things actually happened in Old Japan, but I borrowed the idea of entombing master architectural designers live inside their masterpieces, as happened to Koru's father, from Lian Hearn's masterful novel Across the Nightingale Floor. I do know for a fact that similar things have happened in various cultures throughout history to prevent duplication of architectural feats. The book I took the idea from is set in a fictional version of Tokugawa-period Japan and is about a group of assassins with supernatural powers. If you are enjoying my story for the Japanese elements you may also enjoy Ms. Hearn's trilogy of books that Across the Nightingale Floor begins. (Warning! Contains lots of extramarital sex and other graphic images!) _

_But the nightingale floor itself is not fictional, for those who are interested. I have walked across the one at Nijo Castle in Kyoto (my inspiration for both the gardens and the inner "look" of the Beast's oshiro), and while I didn't think it sounded like a nightingale or any other kind of bird, the squeaks certainly were very piercing. The outer appearance of my oshiro is based on Osaka Castle in Osaka, Japan. There are lots of pictures on the web of both castles from a variety of sources, if you care to do an image search on Google or your own personal favorite online search engine._

_And now I'm sure you're all anxious to find out what happens to our intrepid heroes, so…the next update is rapidly forthcoming!_

_Jya Matashita,_

_SamoaPheonix9_


	21. Fire

**Chapter 20**

_Disclaimer: Not too many more of these to go, hopefully. Today's version: anything that well-trained Disney lawyers in Mickey Mouse ears will not rip away from me for copyright infringement in civil court belongs to me._

Belle flung open the double doors that led to the room where Nightingale was housed, the room where she had last seen the Beast, to the sound of fighting. She was horrified by what she saw. The room was brightly lit by the beams of morning sun coming in the windows. Her dazzled eyes barely had time to register the two shapes in the room, both blurs of motion, before the scarlet-scaled shape swiped one clawed paw across the flat of the sword wielded by the man in dark samurai armor and disarmed him. Then, as Belle watched, awed by the grace of the motion, the Beast neatly flipped the samurai's helmet from his head, exposing Getsuru's sweat-streaked, vulnerable, terrified face. Neither of them so much as glanced at her; their burning eyes were locked together.

"Tell me why I should not simply _flick_," the Beast hissed, placing one gleaming razor-sharp claw next to Getsuru's windpipe, "And end your life right now, for daring to suggest that I am not the rightful possessor of Nightingale." Belle watched as Getsuru's eyes went down for a moment, to the sword still lying beside him on the floor, and she recognized the dark vine pattern of Nightingale's blade.

"I…please…" Belle had never seen Getsuru so frightened. He seemed almost a different man, stripped of his calm certainty that things would eventually go his way. "Forgive me…" he whimpered, "The sword…does belong to you."

There was a dreadful pause. No one in the room dared to move, or to breathe. But, abruptly, the Beast growled, "Very well." He slid a step backwards, still in the half-crouch that allowed him to bring his reptilian face level with his attacker. "I shall be merciful—this time. Though I must admit I have never wished to kill anyone as much as I do you at this moment. Leave my _oshiro_ at once, or I may change my mind. I never wish to set eyes on such as you again!" With a final snarl, the Beast turned to face the door, and his smoldering, furious eyes met Belle's. Immediately the look in them softened, to shine like glowing embers. "Oh, Kirei-san," he murmured, his throaty voice a caress over the name.

"Beast." She could say no more. She knew him well enough to understand what a strain it must have been for him to contain his temper and show such mercy to a man who had dishonored him so. And he had done it with his back to her, had not even realized that she was in the room. In that moment, she knew that she loved the Beast, more than she'd ever loved anyone else. A distant part of her still protested weakly that it should have been impossible to feel such things for a creature that was not even human, but it no longer mattered to her. He was good, and kind, and honorable to the core of his soul. She'd never thought she would meet anyone like him before. Still overcome by her new and tumultuous feelings, she started forwards to meet him.

Had either Belle or the Beast had eyes for anything but one another, they would have seen Getsuru's rapid crouch to the floor, seen his hand reaching to seize the forgotten sword. As it was, neither of them noticed the samurai warrior's motion until it was far too late. Nightingale flashed forward in a rapid stab, and the Beast roared in agony. Eyes bright with triumph, Getsuru raised the gleaming blade for the final blow.

Belle had at first been struck motionless by the shock of what had just happened, but only for a moment. Even before she realized what she was doing she had pulled out her own knife, the one that was Nightingale's pair, and leaped between Getsuru and the Beast. The blades met with a resounding clash of steel on steel. Belle's arms throbbed with the force that Getsuru had put behind his downward thrust, but she clenched her teeth and held firm.

Her intervention had clearly surprised Getsuru, but he recovered quickly and struck again, this time at her. Belle blocked him easily, though this was the first time she had ever wielded a knife against a living opponent. Seven months of hard work at the Beast's evening drilling sessions came back to her immediately, and she took up a guard stance.

Back and forth they traded blocks and blows, Belle concentrating on both her defense and keeping herself between Getsuru and the wounded Beast. Getsuru, for his part, was evidently astonished at the extent of her skill. He tried more and more complicated strikes and feints, which Belle continued to ward off with increasing difficulty. Like the fight in the forest with the _gaijin_-hating men, she was at a great disadvantage compared with her opponent: in this case she was deadly tired from lack of sleep, her weapon's reach was far too short, and her training of seven months, rigorous though it had been, was hardly enough when compared with Getsuru's years of conditioning. She felt herself begin to slow down and did her best to conserve what remained of her energy.

It wasn't enough. All Getsuru needed was one small opening in her guard, and Nightingale was slithering around like a snake to knock her own blade from her numb fingers. It flew through the air and landed with a clatter—behind Getsuru. Belle swallowed hard, nervously eyeing the tip of Nightingale, which was pointed at her throat. She resolved that she would not beg for her life as Getsuru had. She hoped her father and the Beast would forgive her, and closed her eyes, waiting to hear the slight hiss of the blade in the air towards her.

It never came. Instead, there was a roar of fury the likes of which she had never heard before. Her eyes flew open in time to see a scarlet blur appear from behind her right side. The Beast leapt up from the floor towards Getsuru; his mouth was wide in a hideous snarl. He pushed Belle out of the way as he went. The samurai, caught off guard, swung Nightingale recklessly towards this new source of attack. The sword trailed lightly across the Beast's chest, a superficial cut compared to the earlier deep stab that had penetrated the scarlet scales of his back and emerged again from between his white belly scales. But the Beast had clearly had something else in mind than a final attack on his enemy. As the sword continued on past him he gave the unsharpened edge a hard slap with his paw. Getsuru was caught behind the added force of the blow and the momentum of his own swing. Nightingale split his leg armor easily and opened a slash in the samurai's leg.

The wound hardly looked to Belle as if it would do more than slow Getsuru down with eventual blood loss. But from the way Getsuru screamed it might as well have been a stab to the heart. He bent low to clutch at his leg, dropping Nightingale. Belle never quite saw how the Beast did it, but another swift, well-placed blow from his paw knocked Getsuru senseless. The man fell heavily with a clatter of armor. The Beast, though more graceful, was not far behind.

Belle was already at his side, tearing frantically at her skirt for rags to stop the bleeding. "No, Kirei-san," the Beast choked out when he saw what she was doing. "Bind him." He gestured weakly at Getsuru.

"But what about—" Belle started.

"It is only…a matter of time, for me. See to him first."

"But—"

"Please." His eyes, their usual fire clouded with pain, bored into her.

"All right." Belle conceded resentfully, "But only because you ask. Hold on, please…" She bit back a sob, clenched her teeth, and bound Getsuru's wound as quickly as she could, only putting enough bandage on to ensure that he would not die before returning to the Beast.

The light in his eyes was even darker, but they welcomed her silently. "You came back. I never…thought you would."

"I led them here," she confessed, "I'm so sorry! I was coming to warn you…please forgive me."

"Nothing…to forgive," he whispered hoarsely, "Now I can die peacefully, knowing…you were at my side…to the last. I could ask…for nothing more." His breathing grew shallower, his words softer. "And now…you will be…truly free, Kirei-san. Free…of me...forever."

"No!" she cried, her mind fighting against the horrible truth that she knew he had already accepted. "No, I never wanted to be free of you. Well, at first I did," she admitted, scrupulously honest to the last, "but later, when I grew to know you, I was happier with you than I have ever been. And now I realize…I can't live my life without you."

His eyes had already fluttered quietly closed. She _felt_ him growing weaker beneath her, his life slowly ebbing away in a bright pool of blood before her eyes.

"Wait, please!" she begged, hoping he could somehow hear her, "Don't go yet. I need you." Suddenly, she was for the briefest moment seventeen again, sitting in a darkened bedroom, holding her mother's hand as it grew limp and cold. Those had been her words then as well. But now, the grief she felt was compounded by a new sorrow. She rested her head gently on the Beast's chest, straining to catch that final beat of his heart. There was nothing. "Not yet, please," she wailed. "I never got the chance to tell you…" She faltered, her head still on his chest. "I never told you…I love you."

_Author's Note: I managed to get myself teary while writing this, so it's perfectly acceptable if you need a box of tissues right about now._

_SamoaPhoenix9_


	22. Reforged

**Chapter 21**

_Disclaimer: I think by now we've established that everything in this story belongs to me…(ducks incoming lawyers)…and to Disney. I was getting to that!_

The moment she spoke the words, Belle felt a strange sort of release in the still body beneath her, as if the Beast had been waiting to hear her say she loved him just once before he could truly die in peace. The thought made the tears of loss and regret spring all the faster to her eyes. A deadly hush seemed to overtake the _oshiro_ as she wept on that smooth, scaled belly, still slightly warm from the dying fire that had once burned within.

So wrapped up was Belle in her own misery that she did not notice immediately when the first breeze ruffled her hair. The second demanded her attention. Tears coursing quietly down her cheeks, she stood and went to the precious glass panes in the windows to close them against the morning wind.

They were already shut.

Belle paused, one hand still outstretched, and looked quizzically at all the windows. Every one of them was tightly closed and latched, and none of the panes was so much as cracked despite the battle that had taken place in the room just moments ago. But the breeze swirling around the room was now unmistakable. Even Getsuru, though still unconscious, was an unwitting display of the strange effect: his sweat-streaked black hair was moving gently in a breeze that should not have been there. Stranger still, Belle could no longer smell the smoke that had begun to cling like a haze to everything: this breeze was sweet and clean and smelled of springtime.

Abruptly a cyclone seemed to overtake the room. Wind roared as it pushed Belle to her knees and then back against the far wall. Though it was an effort, she forced her blurring, teary eyes to stay open and watch as the dust of years, and everything else in the room small enough to be lifted, rose into the air. The broken furniture that was strewn about toppled over with resounding cracks like gunfire, causing Belle to cover her ears. The wind, now that she could see its path with all the debris it had picked up, seemed to concentrate itself into a vortex over Nightingale, lying still and gleaming in the center of the room. Though no longer under the wind's pressing influence, Belle stayed where she was, frightened by the display of power she could not understand.

A series of strange noises filled the room, such as Belle had never heard in her life: the sound of well-tempered metal cracking. By looking closely through the flying grit, Belle could see a fine web of dark lines weaving themselves all over the patterned surface of Nightingale's blade. Then, without warning, the blade itself crumbled into dust, leaving only the hilt behind on the floor. The silver-blue metal remains swirled up into the vortex—and the wind's focus abruptly shifted from Nightingale to the body of the Beast. Like a tornado it moved across the room, its roar deafening, the lowest point of its inverted cone concentrating itself on the spot on the Beast's chest where Belle had been resting her head only a minute before.

Slowly, so slowly that at first Belle didn't believe her own eyes, the Beast began to rise. He did not spin with the motion of the air, as might have been expected; he remained steady as if supported by unseen arms. Those arms shifted, moving so that his limp head, stretched out on its long neck, was close to the ceiling. From Belle's position he might as well have been on a mattress, had that mattress been both vertical and invisible. If she had not pinched her own arm, hard, to reassure herself that she was indeed awake, Belle would have easily been convinced she was either dreaming or imagining things due to grief and exhaustion.

Before her astonished eyes, the Beast began to change. His limbs were the first, broadening and lengthening considerably, shifting position on his body until they were clearly set up for bipedal walking were it not for his lizard's tail, which was already down to two feet and shortening rapidly. Belle's eyes were drawn upward, to where the paws on his lower legs were shifting into what were evidently…feet. The sharp claws shrank, the curved toes melded together and lengthened. And now his upper paws were shifting into hands, their claws retracting into nails. A glance downward showed that there was nothing left of the tail. The body in the air was by this point clearly more human than dragon despite the covering of brilliant red scales it still wore: the neck and snout were shortening into recognizable human shapes, and the golden crest melted inward and splintered into dark human hair. Scales flowed together, peeling away from hands, legs and face and forming into a simple long-sleeved robe Belle had been taught to call a _yukata_. Last of all, the face came clear. The man was Nipponese and as handsome as Getsuru, though the features were far more angular than the arrogant samurai's and somehow more noble-looking despite the fact that the face was inert and deadly white. He was also quite young, perhaps only two or three years older than Belle herself. For her own part, she could only stare, open-mouthed, stunned beyond words at what was taking place. So great was her shock that she could not even lift her hand to pinch her arm again.

Slowly the young man was lowered to the floor. Instinctively, despite her awe and fear, Belle started towards him. With a last rush, the wind stirred the young man's dark hair and blew itself out the open double doors into the rest of the _oshiro_, pouring the remains of the room's collective debris onto the still body on the floor like thousands of tiny stars where they caught the light.

And the face twitched. Belle restrained herself from staggering back to the wall as the strange young man before her visibly flinched from the dirt and soot raining down upon him. He drew a deep breath…and abruptly shot into a sitting position, coughing and choking violently on the small particles he had just inhaled. The icy white pallor that had been on his skin vanished immediately, replaced by healthy flesh tones.

Belle, out of a combination of compassion and deep curiosity, knelt at his side and supported his back gently until the coughing finally stilled. "Are…are you…all right?" she finally asked hesitantly, frightened at how weak and tremulous her voice was. Even to her own ears it sounded as if she had just survived a hurricane and more.

Eyes still closed, he answered, "Yes, I—" And then he went very, very still at the sound of his own voice.

She felt his shoulders stiffen. Slowly, as if frightened it might vanish if he moved too quickly, he brought one hand, palm up, before his face. He studied the lines etched there for so long that Belle's brief, fanciful thought was that he was reading his own future there. He flexed his fingers, curled them into a fist, and opened them again, all at that slow, awed pace that said clearly that he did not believe what his own eyes were telling him. Then he repeated the process with the other hand. Belle noticed that both hands were trembling slightly.

He turned his head to look at her, hands still palm up before him. When their eyes met at last, Belle sucked in her breath hard. The eyes now boring into hers were the color of a candle flame: orange on the edges of the iris, melting into gold and white and finally a core of blue surrounding a round, black pupil. She knew those eyes well, though the inexplicable sadness they had once contained was gone. They belonged to—

Her brain was refusing to function properly, refusing to admit what her eyes and heart were saying was true. She had had enough of _that_ in the past weeks to last her a lifetime. There was only one way to know for sure, to convince herself forever that she was not hallucinating. Slowly, half-afraid of the answer, she asked in French, "_Who are you?_"

His brow knitted slightly, and her heart sank. But then the tiniest flicker of a smile appeared at the edges of his mouth, and he replied in the same language, with an accent that she recognized, "_I am called…the Beast._"

Belle smiled, her eyes filling with happy tears, her mind fixing on a single, overwhelming, joyous realization: somehow, inexplicably, _he was alive. _ Not knowing what else to do, she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in the long, dark hair that fell over his shoulders. After a moment his arms went around her, hesitantly at first, then with increasing strength until his intensity matched hers. She felt a few hot tears that she knew were not her own land on her shoulder.

How long they stayed there on the floor, he half-prone and she kneeling, ebony hair mingling with brown, arms locked about one another in a reassuring, reaffirming embrace, Belle could not have said. Neither did she remember which of them pulled away first. It never mattered. Later, all Belle could recall was sitting back on her heels and gazing into those familiar fiery eyes, now set into an unfamiliar, human, face.

"Kirei-san…" he murmured at last, stroking her cheek with one thumb, and again she recognized the intonations if not the gentle, articulate voice that spoke them. The name itself, spoken like a caress, pushed away any lingering doubts she might have had that it was truly her Beast inside this new man's body. Only he had ever called her that, in just that way. And her one thought became to close the final distance between them. She leaned forward, just as he did, and their lips gently met. Only afterwards would Belle think to put a name to the sensations of that moment: a brush of soot, and a taste of fire.

A sudden clatter forced them to pull apart far sooner than either of them would have liked. Turning to find the source of the disruption, Belle at first saw nothing. The furniture was still in disarray from the cyclone that had swept the room; Getsuru's unconscious form was still lying quietly on the floor. Then she realized what was different.

"Nightingale!" she exclaimed. The sword lay where she had last seen it, but instead of an empty hilt, the blade was in its usual place, gleaming and perfect again. "But…I watched it shatter!" She rose and started towards it. Her companion attempted to follow her but nearly overbalanced and fell until she caught his arm. Clearly he had some practice ahead of him to regain any ease with upright motion. They shared a brief, humorous smile at this, and Belle placed his hand on her shoulder in support. A small part of her brain registered that he was taller even than Getsuru, the thin, graceful lines of his body a match for the narrow features of his face. Together, they walked forward and stood side-by-side, looking at the silver-blue blade.

At last, the young man bent and wrapped fine-boned fingers around the sword's hilt. Straightening with Belle's aid, he turned the mirror-bright weapon back and forth in his hand, examining it with a practiced eye. Belle noted with interest that all traces of the vines and single wilting rose were gone as if they had never been. The blade was now the true half of a pair with her own _daito_ knife.

They looked at one another, back at the sword, and then at one another again. "What…what happened?" Belle finally ventured. She could not have said whether she meant the sword, or something else entirely.

A half-smile that she immediately recognized tugged at his mouth. He held his _katana_ upright and swung it experimentally a few times, sliding his other arm around her waist as he did so. "Nightingale has been reforged," was all he said.

_**Fin**_

_Author's Note: I can almost hear the collective readership "ahhhhs" right about now. Anyway, even though technically this is the end of the story, an epilogue is forthcoming, so stick around! The fun's not over yet! Maybe Disney can get away with saying "and they lived happily ever after" and expect the audience to swallow it, but the character relations are so complex in my version that I have to say something about where everyone eventually ends up._

_I'd like to hear some feedback on what you guys thought of the transformation sequence; it was admittedly very hard to write even though it has always been my hands-down favorite scene in the movie. I tried really, really hard to avoid it being cheesy and overdone, but let me know how close I got. Ditto on the kissing/"it-is-you!" stuff. Thanks in advance!_

_SamoaPhoenix9_

_P.S. Formal acknowledgements will appear in the author's note once the epilogue is complete._


	23. Afterwards

**Epilogue**

_Disclaimer: At last! I get to control what happens to the characters! Of course, parts or all of them still belong to Disney, but I'd like to think I have a little more say in them this once._

_One Month Later_

"Are you certain about this?" Belle asked, putting a gentle hand on the shoulder of the young Nipponese man who knelt with his back to her, carefully filling an open cedar chest with folded clothes. She marveled, as she often had in the past month, that this tall, serious man was truly the Beast she had known for seven months in his hidden _oshiro_. But then he straightened to look at her and she was assured, as she always was when she saw his fire-colored eyes, that man and Beast were one and the same.

"Kirei-san," he said, smiling that special, secretive smile that always seemed to be on his face when she came into his view, "I did not hear you."

"I'm very quiet when I want to be, with no nightingale floor to alert you," she retorted, causing his smile to broaden briefly. "I asked, are you certain about your decision?"

He looked away, a sure sign he would rather not talk, but Belle was not put off so easily. "If you're not certain, then why leave?" she asked quietly in French, leading him over to the low table in the corner of the room he had been given in the Shogun's Edo palace when they had secretly arrived a week ago.

"I _am_ certain, Kirei-san," he answered after a moment. "That does not make it any less difficult for me. You know better than anyone the pain of difficult decisions made for the correct reasons."

"That's true," Belle conceded, seating herself opposite him and looking him right in the eye, "And I do not regret making them, now. If you truly believe you are doing the right thing, then you also will not regret your decision later. But tell me why you chose as you did."

He sighed and tilted his head in thought, a gesture he had still not lost after only a month in a human body. He reflected a bit and then began. "You know now that I am my father the Shogun's only son, and my true name was—is—Tokugawa Katsuro. For as long as I was human, I was to be his heir. He built the _oshiro_ outside Nagasaki to protect me from assassins, and he was grooming me from afar to be the next Shogun." He paused, and then went on, eyes carrying a hint of the interminable sadness they had once held as a dragon, "But then the _yuurei_ cursed me, one winter night ten years ago. For me, and my servants, time and the outside world stopped. But for everyone else in Nippon—it did not. My father…" he faltered, glanced at her understanding face, and continued, "my father thought I was killed by the Beast. Getsuru and the bookseller told you that story. It was the most logical explanation for my vanishing and the Beast's abrupt appearance in my former residence; how could anyone have believed otherwise?

"And it is dangerous, deadly dangerous, to be Shogun in Nippon without a clear successor. As dangerous for the current Shogun as for any who might aspire to replace him. My father had no choice, though it broke his heart to formally acknowledge that I would never return. He named one of my cousins, the son of his younger sister, to take my place as heir."

"And is he the heir still?" asked Belle, curious at this glimpse of a foreign society's politics.

"Yes. Though he has survived numerous assassination attempts, as I did as a child, he is still alive and is poised to become Shogun. As we discovered when we arrived here, my father is quite ill and is not expected to live out the year." His face twisted. "Oh, Kirei-san, you don't know what it's like, returning as if from the dead, to find that when you enter your father's bedroom he believes you are omen of his own impending end. And the younger cousin you taught to shoot a bow is now years older than you, and in the place you once occupied."

"I've been meaning to ask," Belle said quickly, hoping to distract him for a few moments so that he could regain his dignity, "Is this," she waved her hand to indicate his body, "exactly how you looked before the curse?"

Katsuro glanced at his hands, as if to reassure himself they were still there and no longer clawed dragon's talons. "Nearly," he admitted. "This is just how I was ten years ago, a month or so past my twenty-first birthday, but for the scars," He shifted the flap on his robe to reveal a long scar on his chest and a small, shiny penetration just below it, all that was left of Nightingale's fatal attack on its master. He thought for a moment, then added, "And the eyes. They were once the same shade of brown as my father's, as I recall. It is my belief that the _yuurei_ allowed them to remain as they were when I was a Beast as a reminder. So I never forget how dearly I once paid for my arrogance."

Belle reached across the table for his hand. Taking it in hers, she said quietly, "Your eyes are also what remind me every time I look into them that the Beast I fell in love with is still with me, no matter what shape he now wears."

He blinked, absorbing this, and then smiled for the first time since they had sat down. "Kirei-san, you have always amazed me with how you manage to take something horrible and turn it into good. I never regret all the curse took from me when I remember that it brought you into my life as well."

It was Belle's turn to look down, trying to hide her blush at the compliment. "I can't do that with _everything_," she reminded him, "I only sometimes bring out the good that is already there. If you want proof, look at Getsuru." The samurai had awoken to discover Belle, and a man holding Nightingale, standing over him. Recognizing the vanished prince, and thinking himself utterly mad, he had fled as fast as his feet could carry him into the forest. No one had seen or heard anything of him since then. Belle, much as she despised him, could not help feeling some pity at what must have gone through his mind when he opened his eyes to find the man he had believed he was avenging holding a sword and looking as if he would have liked nothing better than to gut him with it. She almost smiled at the memory. She did miss the _oshiro_, but though the wind that had accompanied the end of the curse had put out the fires set by Getsuru's men, the castle itself was it was beyond repair. Katsuro and the rest of his household had been living in Nagasaki until they had received a private summons in response to a very secret message sent to Edo informing those in power of Katsuro's return.

Belle and Katsuro were silent together for a few moments, fingers still entwined on the table, each thinking their own thoughts. At last, he shifted slightly and said, "To continue: my cousin is now the heir, which leaves me in a very…interesting position. If my father were well, it would have been difficult enough for me to regain my old place with him. I would have had much to learn of the events that have transpired over the past ten years. But now…my cousin has been frank with me, and I with him. I told him the entire story in private, and though he believes me because he knows I would never lie to him he is concerned at the…difficulties…I might cause. It would not be good for the stability of the country if a new heir were to suddenly appear on the eve of the reigning Shogun's demise, even if he were the Shogun's own missing son. My cousin will have enough trouble putting down rivals and keeping a firm hand in power as it is. If I were to formally take up my claim, Nippon could easily be split by civil war. Which is the last thing either of us wants."

Belle nodded thoughtfully. All of this made sense.

"And then there is you."

Belle's head came up. "What about me?"

"Surely you must understand that you present a unique political problem as well, were I to attempt to regain a place in my father's court with you at my side as my wife."

"A unique political…hardly sounds complimentary," she joked, inviting him to share in her amusement as well as let him know that she wasn't insulted.

Once, a remark like this would have triggered a reaction of concern and a bit of anxiety from him, afraid he had offended her, but now his eyes only smiled silently as he said, "My cousin's words, not mine. However he makes a true point: there is a firm legal barrier against any foreigners living or mixing with the people of Nippon. There can be no exceptions."

"I don't care," Belle replied firmly, "I won't leave you now, no matter what anyone else says."

"I am glad you feel so; I feel the same, and have said as much to my cousin. He suggested that if our feelings for one another are so strong perhaps it might be possible for us to separate, permanently, for the good of one another. He said, 'I am not the Western scholar you are, my cousin, but I have heard the _gaijin_ story about the bird that felt passion for a fish and then puzzled about where they might build a home together.'"

"I've heard that one too," Belle answered, wondering if this was so. She had never thought of her relationship with Katsuro in such a way. Could it be that they were too different, even now that he was human, to make a happy life together? "It is true that we may be scorned in Brussels, perhaps permanently by some circles, if we were to arrive as an Eastern husband and a Western wife," she mused aloud, then immediately regretted it as his face darkened.

"Is this, then, what you wish? That we separate forever, and love from two sides the sea?" he asked. His voice was steady, but she could hear the same preparation for hurt and rejection that she had once overlooked when he offered to release her to her father. She knew would not make the same mistake again.

"No," Belle said with quiet certainty. She looked straight into his eyes as she spoke. "I would never willingly part from you, not when I've nearly lost you twice already."

Katsuro smiled broadly, and leaned across the table to kiss her forehead. "Thank you, Kirei-san. It means a great deal to me to hear you say such things. Knowing my own feelings as I did, and daring to believe that I knew yours, I have informed my cousin of my decision. As you know, I formally renounced all claims to my place as my father's heir as well as a position in my cousin's new court. When you and your father depart on the ship for Europe in a week's time, I will be standing beside you on the deck."

Inside, Belle was silently rejoicing, but she kept her face steady, knowing what the consequences were for him. "But that means you will not be able to tell your father goodbye," she said, very softly.

His fiery eyes were sad. "That is my one chief regret about leaving Nippon, and my old life, behind forever. But the curse changed everything for me. I am not the same man the _yuurei_ visited ten years ago, I feel in many ways for the better. And my father no longer recognizes me. I was unable to convince him that I was not the spirit of his dead son, appearing only to inform him that the time had come for him to join me."

"The fact that you haven't aged in more than ten years likely didn't help matters," Belle said, more to herself than to him. She was imagining the scene, and how unbelievably painful it must have been for Katsuro. She had gotten a small taste of such a reaction from the bookseller when she returned to the Dutch quarter from the Beast's _oshiro_. What would she have done if her own father had refused to believe she wasn't a ghost?

"Precisely." Katsuro shook himself slightly, as though to banish the terrible memory of that meeting from his mind. "All things considered, I believe I am making the correct and honorable choice to return to Brussels with you and create an entirely new life. That does not make it any less painful of a decision."

At last Belle understood fully his mood when she had first entered the room. "No. It doesn't. But know that you'll always have me beside you, just as I'll have you. There will be dangers on the road home to Brussels, just as there will be challenges to be met once we arrive. But I want to overcome them knowing that we are two parts of one whole, and that I will always have someone at my side who loves me for who I am. I can't ask anything more or less than that from you."

Katsuro took her other hand in his so that they were holding hands across the low table. "And I swear on my sword to give you all that you ask of me now, and more, until the day we part in death," he said in careful French.

"I, too, swear on my own blade to return to you all that you have now sworn to give me, in full measure, until that day comes," Belle replied in Nipponese, feeling as if they were forming a contract more sacred than the marriage vows they would say someday quite soon.

0 0 0 

One week later, as Katsuro had promised, he stood beside Belle and Maurice as their ship pulled away from the Dutch quarter dock. With them also stood Dai, his mother, and a few of the other former _onii_ who had refused to leave their Master and new Mistress, even if that meant also leaving Nippon forever. Dai especially had been insistent on accompanying them, saying that they would need him if they ever planned another jailbreak. Belle still had trouble connecting the eager thirteen-year-old boy who stood a few paces away from her now with the small, one-armed, blue creature who had been her companion, student, and friend, until he turned to wink at her. She always knew it was him when she saw the mischievous twinkle in his eye. If nothing else, Dai had landed on his feet after the curse had been broken, happily completing all the duties and activities that had once been impossible as a tiny _onii_ with one arm.

Belle had been a little concerned when a group of ten or so of the servants had come to Katsuro and requested to continue to serve him in exile. "How are we going to _feed_ them all?" she had privately asked her father in a bit of a panic. "We don't even have enough for their passage…"

"My cousin gave me money to pay their passage, Kirei-san," Katsuro had said, happening to overhear. "He was so grateful not to have another rival for the throne that I believe he might have paid to have my _oshiro_ shipped to Brussels stone by stone if it meant I would leave in peace."

"And I recently received a letter from a bank in France," her father added. "It informed me that some of the money that had once belonged to your lady mother's family has been recovered from the bank fire that originally ruined them. Not all, mind you, there were many old gambling debts left to pay and so on, but a sizeable amount nonetheless. As your mother's sole heir you are the rightful claimer of that money. It should be enough to keep us all very comfortable, and I'll be able to do quite a business with the Nipponese wares I was able to get in trade with the Shogun's courtiers this past week. My future son-in-law," he had indicated Katsuro, who stood with his back to them, "Has promised to help by running the business while I'm off trading and you run the household. So don't you worry, _ma petite_, it will all be taken care of."

Belle had smiled and not said anything more.

Now, slipping her arm around her new husband, whom she finally had married two days previous in the tiny Dutch quarter church, she watched the remaining figures on the dock begin to slip out of sight. She knew that among them were Koru and the bookseller, who had both been quietly pardoned by Katsuro's cousin and elected to remain in Nippon. Belle would miss them, but they had chosen their own paths, just as she had chosen hers.

_This path _certainly_ wasn't what I pictured when Papa first brought up the subject of a journey to Nippon_, she reflected, resting her head on Katsuro's shoulder and watching the shoreline begin to vanish into the haze behind them. _If someone had told me that I was going to make a deal with a dragon, fall in love with him, and watch him become human again before my eyes because of that love, I would have…well, likely I would never have believed it. Maybe it's like Katsuro said, not long ago. Maybe, I, too, have been reforged._

**おわる**

(End）

_Author's Note: Aaaaaa! It's over already! (sniff, sniff) It's been a GREAT time. Now you can all make up your own gory ways for Getsuru to die (or not, as you please!) OK, acknowledgement time. I'll make this as painless as I possibly can; I don't want to miss anybody._

_**Marissa (and Mordred): **my content previewer(s) during the early chapters. You let me know that this idea might actually work when I conceived it while bored at my internship._

_**TrudiRose:** My very first reviewer. She is semi-godmother to all of us who write for the Beauty and the Beast section, and though I don't know her personally her faithful reviews and honest criticisms are always much appreciated. You are the best!_

_**jarethsdragon: **I've thanked you many times already, but there can never be enough. The story evolved a lot due to the information you sent me about sword etiquette and so on. Because of you, this story was much less of a clone of the Disney movie than it was originally conceived as. You should be very proud, since you had a large part in (vicariously) shaping the later chapters. I hope you enjoyed the final result as much as I enjoyed writing it._

_**aphrodite's dragon: **Only you could catch my few spelling errors. Glad you like, and good luck with taking over the world! I know you'll succeed someday!_

_**CalliopeMused:** one of my best reviewers. Sorry if I insulted anyone in your family with the Mickey Mouse ears comment. It seemed like a logical thing Disney lawyers would wear. Curmudgeon!_

_**Kayasuri-n: **Thanks for being a faithful reviewer of all my later chapters as well as a big fan. The nice promotion of Nightingale in your profile makes me feel warm and fuzzy. As for the editing book you mentioned in one review, I am a self-editor/perfectionist by nature. All the stuff I know I picked up in school and from a book (rant) on punctuation called "Eats, Shoots and Leaves" by Lynne Truss. You will never be confused about when to use an apostrophe, semicolon, or anything else after reading it!_

_**born2drama, arieslilie, AngerManagementIssues45, and K9 the First:** while not always my most articulate reviewers, they are AWESOME for their faithful reviews to many chapters. K9 and arieslilie: thanks for putting Nightingale as one of your favorite stories. It means a lot._

_**Lotte Rose 37:** Hopefully I've done your own sword a fitting tribute. I don't do martial arts, but I have great respect for anyone who can wield a sword. Or a weapon of any kind. I also hope chapter 20 didn't give you a heart attack!_

_**RaptorChicky:** glad to meet a fellow reader of the Tales of Otori. Hopefully this has a bit more of a cheerful tone than they do._

_**KuraiShinzo and aureusangel: **my 2-time reviewers, early in the story. Hope you liked the final outcome, if you're still reading._

_**dancing katz, bnanachild, PurpleKangaroo, vashgirl, Lioness of Dreams, vixon 1, emeraldoni, and Annie Forest: **My one-time reviewers deserve to be acknowledged as well. Thanks for all your input!_

_**AureliusXsoul:** better late than never!_

_**Global eXchange Services: **What can I say? An employer who gives me nothing to do should be given some credit for the consequences. As mentioned in the Prologue disclaimer, they technically own large sections of this story because I had to sign my soul to them for the summer. Anything I created as an employee is theirs…so though they will likely never know it, my supervisor and his staff get an Honorable Mention for giving me long chunks of time with my laptop to spend as I chose._

_**Other sources: **Though of course Disney's Beauty and the Beast was what I based this story on, there are a few other non-human sources. The first is the movie "Memoirs of a Geisha", which provided me with some imagery for Nagasaki as well as ideas for chapter 14. Next, Lian Hearn's "Tales of the Otori" trilogy, which specifically gave me both the nightingale floor and the fate of Koru's father, as well as general atmosphere for all the scenes that are not set in the Dutch quarter. The sword Nightingale is loosely based on Lord Otori's Jato. Lastly, Miyazaki's movie "Spirited Away", the soundtrack of which I listened to constantly while writing. You can see traces of Haku in my Beast/Katsuro (which, btw for any budding etymologists, means "Victorious Son")._

_**All My Japanese Language Sensei over the years: **Mooreman Sensei, Hiraga Sensei, Yonezawa Senesi, and Hogan Sensei. Most of what I know about Japan (Nihon), the Japanese people (Nihon-jin), and the Japanese language (Nihongo) comes directly from them. There are so many details in this story that I picked up from classes that it would be impossible to list them all._

_Hopefully that's everyone, and my Oscar speech is about over. Once again, domo arigato gozaimashita to everybody who had a hand in this process. If I ever get an idea for a sequel that would make sense and not be totally cliché'd and cheesy, I may try to post it. Send me ideas if you are so inclined!_

_Sayonara (deep bow of gratitude to all)._

_Over and Out._

_SamoaPhoenix9_


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